Into the Dawn
by Tilea
Summary: Sequel to "Embrace the Night": After months spent working to bridge the gap between them, Phoenix and Miles have finally come together. However, the world outside seems on the edge of turmoil, and they are about to be dragged into the fray whether they like it or not.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Ace Attorney and its characters are properly of Capcom.

**Warning: **Contains graphic descriptions of violence and explicit sexual content.

**Into the Dawn - Chapter One**

The bottom of the glass clinked lightly against polished wood, the small amount of red liquid still inside sloshing briefly. His fingers maintained a loose grip on the stem, prepared to lift it again should the desire strike him, but for the time, the sunset held his attention.

Miles Edgeworth sat alone in his study, cradled in a plush red armchair that faced a set of windows opposite the door. The blinds were up and the curtains tied back, giving him a view of the western sky above the roofs of nearby suburban homes and distant city buildings. It was a view he had rarely taken the time to appreciate throughout his life, but lately, he had learned not to take such things for granted.

Phoenix had taught him that.

Summer had just begun, so it was already past nine o'clock in the evening as he watched the sky fade from light blue, to pink and orange, to dark blue. It was a beautiful sight, and the red wine at his left hand was making it a little easier to simply sit and enjoy. Miles rarely drank. He had been raised in Germany where alcohol was much more casually served than in the United States, but he had been taught to keep his consumption to a minimum. Mostly, he only drank during certain social functions where having a glass of fine wine or champagne was part of protocol, and even then he did not allow himself to relax. He had never liked the idea of giving his mind over to the influence of any external substance. He always meticulously managed what he said and how he behaved in public, as one careless word or misstep could spell disaster for someone of his notoriety.

During the past six months, his caution and careful control had become so much more imperative. Now, not only was he maintaining appearances, but he carried with him deadly secrets that so constantly nagging at the back of his mind. It had even become difficult to relax and just be comfortable with himself in the privacy of his own home.

Tonight, he was trying to change that, if only temporarily. This was his second glass of wine, and the bottle waited for him on the kitchen counter. He had no intention of becoming intoxicated by any means, but what he did intend would require him to be more relaxed and free of his tight, self-imposed restraints.

Well, that and the fears gnawing insistently at his insides. The wine was beginning to numb him, but something told him that no amount of alcohol would quell them completely.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by the realization that the only color he could see now was a steadily-darkening shade of blue, dotted here and there by stars he was fortunate to see living this close to a major metropolis. The wine glass was at his lips and he briefly held it there after draining the dregs. He felt warm and just a bit less stressed than usual, but no more ready than he had been when he'd poured his first glass.

Slowly, he stood, feeling the slightest of rushes that made him stay in place for a time until it passed. Perhaps just one more glass... a half glass, and he was as ready as he'd ever be. Once he was steady again, he padded across the carpet to the open door, leaving his study and heading into the hall, past the stairs leading up to the master suite, and into the kitchen. He flicked on the light with a gesture and made for the bottle on the counter.

"You just get off work?"

Miles lurched so badly he nearly dropped the glass to shatter against the linoleum. He wheeled around, eyes wide for the briefest of moments before his mind caught up with the situation and he took a deep, calming breath. "Is it not possible for you to make _any_ noise to alert me of your presence?! For the love of... No, I have been home for a couple of hours."

Phoenix stood leaning against the side of the archway into the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest and a little smirk resting on his lips. "Seriously, I feel like you're trying to make some kind of statement to me when you walk around the house with that frilly thing around your neck."

Miles felt a heat in his cheeks that wasn't entirely the alcohol's doing. He was still wearing his work suit, sans his shoes and jacket. "N-no, I merely... hadn't thought to change." Seeing that smirk started to make him feel a bit self-conscious and defensive. "B-besides, how is it any concern of yours what I wear in my own home?"

"Whoa, I'm just teasing," Phoenix said, holding up a hand to stay the glare he was now receiving. "No need to get all touchy. And sorry for sneaking up on you again. It's just... Well, it just feels natural for me to move silently. I'll try to stomp around more if it'll make you feel better."

Miles let out a harsh breath and turned his back in order to pour himself that third glass of wine, filling it to the brim despite his earlier thoughts of limiting himself. "Don't be absurd..."

"Something wrong?" The question came from right beside him, making him wince slightly; he wondered if he would ever get used to the way Phoenix could move so quickly and silently. "Not sure I've ever seen you drink before, Edgeworth."

Miles waited until he'd taken a sip before answering, setting the glass down and going to store the bottle away. "No, nothing is wrong." Nothing in particular, anyway. Nothing new. "I partake on occasion. I've just not made a habit of it."

Phoenix quirked an eyebrow, leaning a hip against the counter. "Okay then. What's the occasion?"

Miles froze for an instant, mentally kicking himself. The alcohol was most certainly getting to him, else he would not have made such a careless slip of the tongue. Then, he scolded himself: he was drinking for a reason, and that reason was to stop worrying about every little word he said or every little thing he did! Tonight, he _wanted_ to let himself go, to let his guard down... at least a little. He reached up to place the bottle in the liquor cabinet and close the latch. "Nothing special..."

"...Yet?"

Slowly, Miles turned and met intense blue eyes that were fixed on him, watching, measuring, reading his every move. It was the gaze of a hunter, but there was something familiar in it, too, something from the man's days behind the defense bench as he relentlessly pressed witnesses, ready to pick up on any little mistake that would reveal what he knew they were hiding. It was unnerving to be under that gaze, and Miles wondered if this was similar to how people felt when he himself set his sights on them.

After several months of this arrangement, he could tell when Phoenix was hungry. He was hungry now, and Miles had been expecting that. What he had not expected was how easily Phoenix would pick up on what was going through the prosecutor's head, for he hadn't been at all aware he'd given any indication whatsoever. He felt even more uneasy and had to take another drink of wine - drink, not sip - before he could bring himself to say anything.

"I... suppose anytime can become an occasion given the proper conditions." He saw Phoenix's fingers flex, gripping the sleeve of his black sweatshirt for an instant. The undead man was having trouble keeping his distance: Miles could tell. While there had been a few scares and close calls, Phoenix had yet to completely lose control of himself during his time as Miles'... roommate? Still, he struggled, and Miles had learned to read his body language, to interpret when he needed to tread more carefully and avoid provoking the man's predatory instincts. It got easier every day, came to him more naturally as time passed, and Phoenix openly expressed his appreciation for his attentiveness. Phoenix had also done his best not to get overly-familiar, but he tended to get more... invasive and 'hands-y' when he was hungry. Apparently, this was only really a problem because he was attracted to Miles; he had claimed that - under normal circumstances - feeding didn't arouse him.

Being the exception to that had been a source of both intrigue and discomfort for Miles during this entire ordeal, the latter magnified by ever-present memories of his first few days with the new Phoenix Wright. Tonight, however, he wanted to try acting on the former, to allow things to go beyond the boundaries he had been doing his best to enforce. He was nervous as all hell, but wasn't that natural? Most people weren't entirely comfortable when heading into such an unfamiliar situation, and he had more cause than most to be anxious.

Phoenix stood rigid to keep himself from advancing as he watched MIles nurse his glass of wine. Miles was trying to relax, but it was difficult while Phoenix was _looking at him like that._ "Perhaps we should move to the living room instead of standing here awkwardly," the prosecutor suggested before heading off to do just that. He could still feel those eyes on him, and shortly after he lowered himself onto the sofa, Phoenix took the cushion beside him. He kept about a foot of space between them - at great personal strain - and sat just as rigidly as he'd been standing. Miles took up what he hoped looked like a relaxed position and took yet another sip of wine before setting the glass on the end table. He reached over to touch the base of the lamp until it reached an appropriate level of light, recalling how Phoenix had amused himself with the touch-sensitive lamp for an entire evening upon first arriving here.

"What're you smirking about?"

"Mm?" Miles turned his head to meet Phoenix's gaze, only now realizing the memory had brought a tiny grin to his own lips. "Ah... Just..." He worked to return his expression neutral and changed the subject. "You look tense. I didn't think you would be _that_ starved so soon."

A dark chuckle came from the other man's throat as he turned his face away. "Miles, if you only knew... I don't think you've ever tested me like this before. It's actually kinda' cruel."

Miles sucked in his lower lip slightly. "Testing you was not my intention." He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing to make this so difficult for Wright, but there was a mischievous part of him that wanted to see how much teasing he could get away with. He buried that urge, knowing it could easily lead to disaster, and reached up to begin untying his cravat. Phoenix turned to watch him do this, lips slightly parted.

"You might wanna' change first," the former attorney suggested, the reluctance to delay this any further clearly heard in his voice. "Doubt you want to risk having to get bloodstains out of a white shirt."

Miles said nothing. He was focusing hard on controlling his breathing as he carefully folded his cravat, set it aside, and then moved to start unbuttoning his black vest. His fingers seemed suddenly much less dextrous than usual, and though he wanted to blame the wine, he knew that wasn't the whole truth. God, he was nervous, so much so that he was having serious doubts about his decision.

He froze stiff when a cold hand came to rest atop his and he felt the cushion shift beneath him. Head tilted against the backrest, Miles did not move a muscle as nimble fingers worked loose the buttons with which he had struggled. There was a weight against his shoulder, then lips on his neck, kissing, kneading, promising teeth: fangs.

"Damn, Miles... You smell amazing right now... even better than usual..." Phoenix's voice was rough, a slight growl hidden just beneath the surface that never would have been there in life. It caused Miles' pulse to quicken with both excitement and fear; he was very aware that he was taking a risk, and at some point, there would be no chance to change his mind and turn back. It may have already been too late.

His vest fell open as Phoenix unfastened the last button and then got to work on his dress shirt; the prosecutor was grateful he still had enough patience not to just tear the clothing away. Worried that this might change, Miles returned his hands to the task, starting to undo the buttons at the bottom. However, with a quick motion, Phoenix pushed his hands away, making it perfectly clear what he wanted. Miles let his hands drop to his lap, unsure of how to interpret this behavior and what it meant for things to come.

When his shirt opened to expose his front, Phoenix placed a palm against Miles' flat stomach, occupying himself with kissing his way from the side of his neck, to his throat, and then down toward his chest. Miles stayed completely still as the other man's mouth explored him, worried that if he moved, some measure of aggression would be triggered. His breath hitched in his throat when Phoenix found one of his nipples and began paying the sensitive area special attention. Lips and tongue worked eagerly, and Miles found himself starting to enjoy this a little more. However, when he felt teeth scraping his skin, his muscles instantly tensed, bracing for what he feared was about to happen.

It didn't happen. Instead, Phoenix drew back and looked at him, studying him as he often did. Without saying anything, he leaned past the prosecutor and picked up the forgotten wine glass, pressing the rim of it to Miles' lips. "Drink." The word wasn't spoken harshly at all, but it was very clearly more of a command than a request. That stubborn part of him that was still fighting against this protested angrily at being spoken to in such a way, but as Miles watched the expectant look on Phoenix's face, he decided finishing the wine would probably benefit him.

Miles parted his lips and Phoenix tilted the glass, slowly pouring the alcohol past them. Instinctively, Miles reached up in order to take a hold of the glass himself and control the pace, but with his free hand, Phoenix gently yet firmly pushed it back down. For the thousandth time, the silver-haired man questioned whether or not he could really go through with this, whether he would come to regret this in short order. Meanwhile, he was being made to drain the rest of the glass, feeling heat spread through him and leave him somewhat light-headed. He could not recall the last time he'd drank so quickly, and it was causing this last half-glass to have a much stronger effect on him than the other two and a half.

When the wine was gone, Phoenix set the glass aside and leaned in to lock Miles in a hungry kiss, tongue exploring and tasting the wine indirectly. Using the kiss as something of a distraction, he worked on pushing the shirt and vest from Miles' shoulders until the garments were uselessly hanging between his back and the couch. Only then did he break the kiss, sliding an arm behind the prosecutor and shifting their position so that Miles was settled more in his lap instead of against the armrest.

Miles was now acutely aware of how aroused Phoenix had become, and he shivered at how exposed and vulnerable he already was. Strong arms wrapped around his middle and Phoenix leaned in to press lips to his ear, speaking in a sultry tone, a deeper register than he normally used. "Miles, I need you to tell me right now if this isn't what you want," he murmured, his voice sending chills through the man in his grasp. "If this goes any further, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself if you change your mind."

So, this was it: his last chance. If he was going to back out, it had to be now. The fact that Phoenix had hesitated enough to give him this chance served to sooth some of his doubts, but they weren't completely gone - far from it, in fact. Miles tried to swallow down his anxiety and took in a shaky breath. "Do you... believe you can avoid injuring me...?" He trusted Phoenix, mostly, but he had to know if the former attorney trusted himself.

"I'm going to be as careful as I can," Phoenix assured him, the fingers of one hand absently stroking Miles' chest, "but you have to promise me something: if I'm hurting you, you have to tell me. I might not be able to stop completely, but I'll do my damnedest to ease up. I want you to enjoy this, too. Just... don't try to physically resist me or... things might go badly. I think you know that already."

He did, quite well. He had learned very quickly that he had much better luck with words than pushing or pulling away. Struggling prey only provoked a predator, but when he spoke, it seemed to get past the bestial instinct and reach Phoenix, reminding him of who he was, who they both were.

As apprehensive as he still felt, Miles knew he did not really want to bow out of this; he had already committed himself to it. Maybe he wasn't entirely ready, but the best way to adjust to freezing water was to simply jump right in and get it over with all at once. He would never come to trust Phoenix in this way if he did not give the other man a chance to earn that trust.

His confirmation of understanding and his consent came in the form of a single nod. The deal and the exits were sealed with that gesture, and without wasting another moment, Phoenix hooked an arm behind Miles' knees and effortlessly lifted him from the couch. He moved at a brisk pace, but in the sense that a human would consider 'brisk'. Miles was grateful for this, too; a sudden rush upstairs and to the master bedroom would probably have made him sick.

Phoenix deposited him on the queen-size bed and was on him instantly, lavishing him with kisses.


	2. Chapter 2

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Two**

It wasn't long before Miles was lightly panting, and this time it was a result of his growing arousal. He hadn't been certain he could ignore the lack of warmth in Phoenix's touch, but it no longer seemed to matter much. Phoenix Wright, his old friend, the man who had stood by him when no one else would, the man who had helped him find his true purpose in life, the man he had secretly pined over for years - too worried about appearances and social protocol to ever let himself confess - was kissing him senseless. That was suddenly all that mattered to him. With such a distraction, he hardly noticed when his suit pants were unfastened, and thus he received a tremendous shock when Phoenix's hand curled around his arousal, sending a bolt of electricity through his entire body and causing him to gasp.

Phoenix smirked down at him, clearly pleased with himself. "Well, what'd you think I was doing?"

Miles was sure his face was a healthy rose color by this point. "I-I was merely... distracted," he stammered, not quite able to get his thoughts in order while Phoenix kept _moving his hand like that_.

The man still in all black chuckled, leaning down to press a firm kiss to Miles' throat as his head went back in response to the pleasure. "Distracted?" he inquired. "By what?"

"By you," Miles replied, his fingers flexing into the bedspread beneath him as the stroking quickened. "I... admit I did not... expect you to be so... so..."

"Patient?" Phoenix drew back, laughing lightly again and smiling down at the prosecutor. "It's not easy, let me tell you, but... well... I've wanted to do this with you for a long time. Properly, I mean. You're important to me, Miles; I'm not here to just get a quick fix and be on my way."

Upon hearing those words, Miles experienced something that only Phoenix had ever been able to create in him. It was a pleasant swelling sensation in his chest, a fluttering of his heart. Was it giddiness, or something more? He didn't know, but he liked the way it felt and closed his eyes to relish it. Phoenix had claimed to care for him many times, but this felt like proof, evidence that he was not just some plaything the former attorney was manipulating for his own purposes. For many years, he had told himself that he didn't need such companionship, that he cared little what others thought of him beyond what was necessary to keep his career going smoothly.

As it turned out, he was human, and humans needed companionship, needed to feel loved and wanted on some level.

Despite his efforts, it seemed Phoenix's patience wouldn't last forever. When he had worked Miles up into a feverish state, he abruptly withdrew his hand, earning a groan of protest. He paid it no mind and moved off the bed, and in what looked like a blur of movement to Miles, had removed his own clothes. His entire body was exceedingly pale, but Miles doubted he had sported such defined muscle in life. He was noticing it now for the first time, as Phoenix had been wearing nothing but black long-sleeved garments, not that he'd really seen him in anything but his blue suit in life. For all he knew, Phoenix could have always been in such appealing shape; he had walked or biked everywhere, after all.

The silver-haired man watched as Phoenix turned to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer, procuring a bottle of lubricant. Miles frowned. "How did you know that-"

He fell silent when an index finger was pressed to his lips, then replaced by Phoenix's own lips. The kiss was hard and filled with longing. A chilled tongue pushed past his own and back into his throat, the sudden intensity drawing out a muffled sound of surprise from him. While he was preoccupied, his trousers and undergarments were swiftly slid the rest of the way off and a knee was worked in between his thighs to part them. For a second time, the kiss served as a successful distraction, and Miles was not prepared for the feeling of cold, slick fingers finding their way to such a sensitive part of his body.

He gave a slight cry of surprise and automatically tried to jerk his head, but Phoenix had him locked in place and seemed to have no intention of letting him go. It had become abundantly clear to him throughout the course of the evening that Phoenix was taking charge of this entire situation, exerting control not only over himself, but his human partner. Months ago, Miles never could have imagined Phoenix being so domineering, but now... he supposed it was his nature. He had somewhat anticipated it, really, and while he still wasn't sure how he felt about it, he was not particularly uncomfortable with it yet.

In any case, the kiss could no longer distract him from what was going on below, or at least not completely. Regardless of his own willingness, his body was a bit resistant, and thus he squirmed and whimpered a little as those fingers worked their way in to loosen up all the taut muscle. The small noises he made were mostly stifled, but he was soon finding it impossible to breathe and became much more tense. Fortunately, Phoenix sensed this and broke the kiss, allowing the living man to take in several quick, deep breaths while trailing kisses down to the side of his neck.

His body had only just begun to accept what was happening when Phoenix decided he could no longer wait. He withdrew his hand and moved to kneel between Miles' legs, which he then lifted to drape over his shoulders. The prosecutor now felt properly vulnerable, and part of his mind was setting off alarms, reminding him of how Phoenix had taken him twice before against his will. He shut it out, irritated that such things would plague him now when he was enjoying himself and when it was far too late to turn back. He could not quell the anxiety, however, and he peered up at Phoenix with a look he hoped would reflect his thoughts.

_I'm trusting you. Please don't make me regret that._

Phoenix took a hold of his hips and lined himself up, and then paused in order to give Miles a reassuring smile. "Remember: just tell me if it's too much, and you have nothing to fear."

Miles nodded once, and that was when Phoenix stopped holding himself at bay. The penetration was slow but relentless, pausing not even once to give Miles a chance to adjust to the pressure. The prosecutor sucked in a breath and his lower lip, muscles flexing as the other man slid deeper. The two times Phoenix had done this before had been decidedly different, such that not even this feeling was entirely familiar. He'd been panicking then, absolutely terrified, and that terror had been some form of a distraction from many of the sensations. Now, he was feeling everything, and even though he was experiencing great discomfort at the moment, he certainly preferred this.

Phoenix, on the other hand, looked to be enraptured. "Fuck..." he groaned as he at last seated himself completely, head dipped back. "You feel amazing..." His grip tightened as he lowered his chin to peer down, meeting Miles' gaze and seeing the grimace on his face. "Just relax..." he muttered in an attempt to comfort his human lover despite his own selfish desires. "It'll get easier..."

That night on the side of the road had not marked the loss of Miles' virginity, but he'd had very few encounters before that and none of which had he been on the receiving end. Now that he was here of his own will, he had to trust what Phoenix told him; after all, beyond the discomfort and slight pain, he was already starting to feel something pleasant. That began to increase as Phoenix started moving his hips, sliding nearly all the way out, and then back in at a slow pace. Miles' lips parted to release a short moan, the light flush on his cheeks beginning to darken. He kept his eyes locked with Phoenix's, and he could see a strained expression on the pale face above him; apparently, this slow, gentle rhythm was not easy for him to maintain.

Fortunately, the faint sparks were quickly insufficient for Miles: he needed more. "It's okay, Wright, you can- Ah!" He hadn't even managed to get the sentence out before the invitation was accepted and Phoenix bucked hard against him. The nerves he had only grazed before ignited, causing the prosecutor to throw his head back into the pillow behind it. Nothing about this was 'slow' or 'gentle' any longer; Phoenix clearly had no middle ground, or perhaps this _was_ the middle ground between strict control and fatally injuring his partner. His anxiety flared, but so did his lust as every nerve within him seemed to be firing with each quick, powerful thrust of Phoenix's hips.

Miles was breathing purely in sharp gasps, which soon left him light-headed. The moans and cries he managed to get out in between those breaths were mingled with the almost bestial grunts of the man leaning over him, and before long, he heard the all-too-familiar sound of feeding fangs emerging. He could see them as Phoenix opened his mouth, gleaming like twin daggers in the moonlight coming through the curtains. It was a frightening sight, but Miles also found it exciting in a way, a feeling magnified by overpowering surges of pleasure coursing through his body with each movement Phoenix made.

Phoenix soon changed their position, pushing Miles' thighs to his chest to fold him over and get a better angle, able to thrust even deeper. At the same time, he leaned over more, lowering himself over the prosecutor and bringing his mouth to the side of the human's neck. The urge to protest what was about to happen came to the forefront of Miles' mind, but with so much weight now on his torso, it was even harder to breathe, much less stammer out the word 'wait' in time.

He gasped and cried out sharply when the fangs sank in, and he now felt properly helpless. With Phoenix lying atop him and gripping his upper arms, he was completely pinned. It got a little better when Phoenix released him with one arm in order to slide it beneath him, bringing his head and shoulders up a bit to make feeding less awkward, but the position gave him no more freedom - only the ability to move one of his arms.

He realized he was starting to panic and - in the midst of what was happening to him - he had to try and calm himself. He was focusing on his lack of control, not how it all felt. The fact of the matter was, it felt amazing. Yes, there was pain: the bite had hurt and some of those thrusts shot pain through his center, but somehow that was only adding to the experience. It was his worry, his fear for what would happen if things got out of hand that was interfering with his enjoyment, and while Miles Edgeworth had always prided himself in being prepared for any scenario, he had to let that go now. Yes, things could go very wrong at any moment, but how were things to go right if he wouldn't let them?

He forced himself to relax, and once he did, he found it was just a little easier to breathe, albeit still a struggle. The sounds Phoenix was drawing from him were unfamiliar to his ears, and with them he could hear a low, rumbling purr-like sound coming from the man holding him. His erection had received no further attention, but even so Miles was sure he wasn't going to last much longer. This was all so overwhelming, and the reduced level of oxygen was enhancing every sensation as his body reacted to the perceived threat.

Phoenix didn't drink for long before wrenching his fangs out and greedily lapping at what continued to spill out. "Fuck yes..." he growled, pushing his hips forcefully against Miles and grinding deep within him, eliciting a shuddering moan from the prosecutor. "Don't hold back. Let me hear you!"

"A-ah! Ph-Phoe-nix!" Miles barely managed to cry out in response to the request. This encouraged the vampire as he rose up, placing his hands on the backs of Miles' thighs to keep his legs folded back so he could resume his relentless pounding. He soon had Miles screaming, and there was no way the silver-haired man could hold out any longer. He couldn't even manage to yell out a warning before the orgasm hit him full-force. Each wave drew out a cry from him that made it fortunate he did not have neighbors close by, as the violence of the climax made it difficult to distinguish them as pleasure or pain. His muscles clamped down around Phoenix, who just kept moving, thrusting wildly to attain his own release.

When Phoenix finally came, Miles was barely aware enough to notice. The intensity of it all had left him in a half-conscious state of euphoria, his body quivering with the aftershock. Everything was white, and he wondered if this was what a good high felt like. He had no idea for how long he stayed in limbo, but when he came back around, he was lying under the top sheet and duvet cover, Phoenix on top of the blanket with one arm draped over his chest and the other cradling his head. He noted that he must have been cleaned off, as he didn't feel sticky.

Phoenix was peering down at him with a look of adoration, and perhaps a little concern. "You all right?"

Miles' breathing was still a bit heavier than normal, his heart not quite back to its regular pace. He stared up at Phoenix, blinking several times to try and clear away the rest of the haze. "I'm... better than all right," he managed at last, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile he could not have contained had he tried. Phoenix quickly covered that smile with a kiss, deep and passionate, but much gentler than Miles had expected it would be.

"I'm glad to hear it," the former attorney murmured after breaking contact. "You... might be pretty sore in the morning, though. Why don't you let me give you a few drops of my blood to help with that?"

Miles bit his lip. He'd never liked the idea of that. Not only did it taste terrible and the thought of drinking blood was revolting to him, but he had no clue what long-term effects such a substance could have on the human body. He couldn't believe there were none! "I... well..."

"It's okay," Phoenix assured him, pressing a light kiss to Miles' temple. "Do you really think I'd give you something that would harm you? Just a couple drops will only help you heal faster, I promise."

Miles took in a deep breath and then simply nodded his consent, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. He averted his gaze as Phoenix produced his fangs in order to bite his own index finger, then braced himself for the awful taste as that finger was pushed between his lips. He lightly sucked on the digit, the bitter taste flooding his tongue even though only a miniscule amount of the substance seeped out before the wound closed up. Phoenix withdrew his finger and then pulled Miles closer to him, the thick duvet separating them. Miles was grateful that Phoenix had thought enough to realize his cold skin would be unpleasant to be pressed against while trying to sleep, though it was a bit disappointing that they could not be closer.

Still, as Miles let his eyes fall shut and sleep start to take him, he found himself so much more content and secure than he would have ever expected. He was falling asleep in the arms of a vampire, a predator who had victimized him more than once. However, he chose not to think of it that way. In his mind, he was falling asleep in the arms of Phoenix Wright, something he'd dreamed of doing for years.

* * *

><p>Beauty unmatched.<p>

Careful not to disturb his sleeping lover, Phoenix began gently combing sweat-soaked silver bangs from a face of pale perfection. He had always found Miles attractive - so beautiful and even adorable at times. However, seeing him like this was something that might have inspired him to write horribly cheesy poetry. The sight of him sleeping, slightly curled on his side, naked, skin glowing in the moonlight, hair disheveled and shining with perspiration, so at peace and calm and trusting...

Phoenix realized his mouth was open and he shut it quickly. He was also acutely aware that he was becoming aroused again, something he could not help. One perk of his new... condition... was that - unless he was badly injured - he simply did not get tired. The only thing that had stopped him from making love to Miles literally the entire night was the prosecutor's limitations as a mortal human and Phoenix's desire not to harm him. Even now, as he looked upon the other man, so serene and resting peacefully, he wanted to yank the blanket out from between them, turn him face-down, and have his way again and again.

Just the thought started a low rumble in his chest and caused his arousal to surge, but he had to reign himself in. He forced himself to lie down and look up at the ceiling, working to control his thoughts and his body's reaction to them. It was literally a constant struggle, but one he gladly fought. No, the beast within him would never be truly satisfied with this arrangement, but he didn't _want_ to satisfy it. He wanted it gone! He wondered just how long it would be before things got easier, as Alastair had promised they would...

...Alastair...

Phoenix expelled air from his lungs in a long sigh, a reflex left over from his time as a living man. He still remembered the excruciating pain he'd felt the instant Alastair had been killed, like his very soul had been severed. The bond between Maker and Progeny was a powerful one, a tie made in blood and spirit. A vampire felt it when any of their children died, and vice-verse. Phoenix had viewed Alastair neither as a father or a lover as many of his kind did, but the man had been very important to him, a constant source of advice, guidance, and protection from both the outside world and himself. The rage that had followed that blinding flash of agony was something on which he did not wish to dwell, something he was very glad Miles had not witnessed. Had he... Well, Phoenix was certain he would not have been welcome here.

After these thoughts had run their course, Phoenix felt it was safe to look back down at Miles again, and he felt a small smile curve his mouth. So precious... and all his... Okay, so maybe Miles would resent that particular sentiment, but Phoenix didn't really mean it in the way most vampires would. He meant it in the proper sense, the sense that two lovers should belong to one another. Okay... so maybe that wasn't _entirely_ true. He most certainly felt possessive of his childhood friend/courtroom rival/new lover, but he didn't want to start thinking of Miles as belonging to him lest he start treating him as such - unintentionally, of course.

Miles was a human being with free will and free thought, and he would never belong to anyone!

...Unless... he agreed to bond...

Phoenix inwardly laughed at the notion. Miles Edgeworth would never agree to something like that, and Phoenix wasn't entirely sure he'd want to press the issue. It sounded appealing, yes, but his concern for the other man made him reluctant. The bond was - essentially - slavery, even though the benefits to the human participant were worth it to some people. Although, if the vampire was kind and actually cared for the human, it wasn't at all bad... from what he'd heard.

Slowly, Phoenix shook his head. No, he needed to stop thinking about it. It was irrelevant. He had to just let Miles live his life, even if that meant... watching him grow old and...

He shook his head again, more rapidly this time. Why did it always feel as if his thoughts were working against him? It was like every train of thought he found himself on inevitably led to a cliff. It would have been nice could he simply go to sleep spooning Miles and wake up in the morning, refreshed and ready for a little affection and a nice breakfast, but things just didn't work that way for him anymore. He didn't sleep anymore. He was awake all night, and would then have to depart before the sun came up to hide in his basement tomb, technically dead until the sun set the following evening. His body was alert enough even while he rested to rouse him if anything happened, but at least he could shut his mind off for a while.

Gently, he leaned down to press his lips to the side of Miles' neck, feeling the man shift a little in his grasp: he did not wake. Phoenix inhaled the scent of his skin and the blood flowing beneath. Blood, sweat, and sex: an intoxicating aroma. He could hear Miles' deep, steady breathing and the rhythmic beat of his heart, unmistakable signs of life. Even through the thick comforter he could feel the heat radiating from the living man, and he recalled how it had felt like he was burning while inside him. He wanted to feel Miles' bare skin pressed to his, but he would not subject the poor man to that; he could only imagine it would feel like sleeping against a sheet of ice. No, he would just have to keep a blanket or clothing between them when they lay together like this.

Even though there were things he regretted not being able to share in, what he had was better than nothing and better than he deserved. He only hoped Miles could be satisfied with this arrangement, lacking as it was. At least Miles had come to trust him enough to take this step; now he just needed to work extra hard not to break that trust, as his predatory nature kept urging him to do.

After all, the human was utterly helpless and completely at his mercy.

Phoenix grunted in frustration and squeezed Miles just a little tighter, to remind himself of whom it was he held. This was Miles. He loved Miles. He wanted to protect Miles, make him happy, and make amends for all he had already done to him, as impossible as that seemed.

If there was a way to permanently silence the insatiable beast lurking within him, he would find it for the sake of the man sleeping soundly in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Three**

Miles woke alone the following morning.

He roused slowly, in no hurry as it was a Saturday and he had no excess work to do. Sunlight fell across his face, and thus he had to shield his eyes when he opened them until they adjusted. As the memories of the previous night returned to him, he felt his heart sink a little when he looked to the empty spot on the bed beside him. He was - of course - accustomed to waking up alone, but this morning he wished that could be different.

Oh well, he had chosen this path; he would learn to accept what it meant. Maybe, somewhere down the line, he could come up with a way to change things.

Wait...

A wry smile played at his lips as he realized what he was thinking, what it meant. It didn't really surprise him: he'd pined over Phoenix Wright for years. He wasn't about to settle for a one-night-stand or a fling. Still a bit groggy, he turned onto his side to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand: Eight-thirty - a reasonable time.

He then noticed something else. Beside the clock lay a scrap of paper, and the smile tugged at his lips again as he reached over to pick it up. He had learned to recognize Phoenix's handwriting. It wasn't exactly the neatest, but it was legible and had a certain... charm to it, if that made any sense at all.

_"Miles,_

_I'm sorry I can't be there when you wake up, but last night was wonderful. I'll see you tonight when the sun goes down, and we can talk about it then, if you want to._

_Phoenix_

_P.S. I set the timer on the coffee pot. Thought you might need it."_

Miles set the note down and flopped back against his pillows, closing his eyes as he thought about Phoenix, about last night. He'd had so many reservations, so many reasons to be hesitant and even afraid, but all had eventually been banished. He had believed in Wright, in his ability to control himself, and that faith had been rewarded. Yes, that encounter had been much rougher than he would have expected back when Phoenix was a living man, but he had to admit to himself that he had enjoyed that, too.

He always had to be in control of every aspect of his life, from investigations to everything he said or did. It was... refreshing to give control over to someone else for a change and not have to worry about the consequences. He trusted Phoenix, as shown by putting his very life in the other man's hands only hours before.

After lazing around for another half hour, Miles dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. He had expected some bruises or marks left over from their activities, but he supposed the drops of blood he'd been given had healed those. After washing, he shaved, combed out his hair, and put on a fluffy red bathrobe. He could dress later if he had cause.

It was as he sat in the living room with a mug of hot coffee and scrolling through the latest news on his laptop that his phone began to ring. He frowned in irritation, wondering who could be calling him this early on a Saturday. However, irritation melted away when he saw the identity of the caller. His heart sank.

"Good morning, Ms. Fey."

_"Hey, Mr. Edgeworth!"_ On the surface, the young Master of Kurain sounded as chipper as ever, but he knew better. He knew why she was calling, and it was nothing to be cheery about. _"Sorry to bug you so early in the morning, but-"_

"My apologies, Ms. Fey, but I have nothing new for you. I would call you if I did." He was doing his best not to get frustrated with her. She was sick with worry, even after nearly a year, and hated merely waiting around in desperate hope for some news. What was worse? He was lying to her and had been for six months now. It was fortunate she had yet to ask him face-to-face; he clearly recalled that... strange gemstone she possessed that detected lies: psycho-locks, right?

_"O-oh..."_ The disappointment in her voice was tangible, and he wondered how she kept getting her hopes up each and every time she called him. _"A-are you sure? Nothing at all? Nick couldn't have just... disappeared into thin air."_

Miles drew his lower lip in through his teeth. "Believe me, i have been dong everything in my power, using every resource at my disposal to find Wright, but no leads have surfaced. It... does seem as though he simply vanished, though I know that cannot be the case. Nevertheless, I... do not expect there will be any evidence left after this much time has passed..."

_"W-what!?"_ Miles winced, mentally kicking himself. _"How can you say that?! Mr. Edgeworth, everyone else has given up! You can't give up, too! When you were in trouble, Nick believed in you 'til the very end! You have to do the same for him, okay? You and I are the only ones he has left, and I can't do anything up here!"_

"Please, forgive me," he muttered, shaking his head though she could not see it. "I did not mean to sound as if I have given up. It is simply difficult to hold onto hope in such a situation, but I will keep trying. I gave my word, did I not?"

There was a brief silence from the other end of the line, then a sigh. _"Yeah, sorry... I know you won't break your promise. I'm just... I'm so worried about Nick. What could have happened to him?"_

_You wouldn't believe me if I told you..._ "I don't know, Ms. Fey, but I still intend to find out. Should I find even the smallest sign of his whereabouts or his fate, you will be the first to know."

_"Thanks... Guess I'll let you go."_

"Goodbye, Ms. Fey." Miles took his phone away from his ear and tapped the screen to end the call before setting it aside. He leaned his head back against the armrest with a heavy sigh, letting his eyes fall shut and rubbing his temples. Everyone else in the district had given up the search, and while this had annoyed him at first, it had become a source of relief after what he had learned. It meant he didn't have to keep up pretense so often, but there was one person who absolutely refused to quit. Maya Fey was a true friend to Wright, and thus, he had to constantly lie to her, pretend he was still searching with no results. A selfish part of him wanted to be irate with her, to tell her to just give it up and move on, but he had more compassion than that. The poor girl had lost so many people in recent years, and so he understood why she absolutely refused to accept losing another.

Sometimes hope, even false hope, was all that kept a person going. He'd gotten a taste of what that felt like half a year ago.

As the day wore on, Miles realized he didn't know what to do with himself. It wasn't a problem he was used to having. There was always something to do: cleaning, organizing, casework, or just a bit of reading. Today, he didn't feel like doing any of it. After a brief bit of self-analysis, he concluded that all he _really_ wanted to do was spend more time with Phoenix. He momentarily considered going down into the basement to just sit with him, but he shook off the idea; he didn't want to disturb the undead man's rest.

He forced himself against his lethargy to get dressed and go do a bit of grocery shopping, but that only took about an hour. Being that it was summer, Wright wouldn't be awake until the time Miles normally retired for the evening. That was a discouraging thought: they had really only just begun to get close, and it happened to be when they would be able to spend the least amount of time together.

That night found him lying on the couch once more, watching an unsettling news story about some recent disappearances. Knowing what he knew now, he began to wonder if these incidents could have anything to do with vampires, and then began to muse about past ambiguous kidnapping or murder cases. How many incidents had actually been caused by vampires, made to look like accidents or pinned on someone else? As a prosecuting attorney, it made him extremely uneasy to think about, and he was in the process of reaching for the remote to change the channel when the doorbell rang.

Miles had always hated receiving visitors at night. It was usually just some kids from the neighborhood having gone to the wrong house or having lost something of theirs over his backyard fence, but it had always made him anxious. That news report he'd been watching certainly wasn't helping, and so he was extremely tense as he made his way to the front door. It was too dark to see anything through the peep hole, so he just unlocked the bolt and pulled the door open halfway.

He was met with an unexpected sight: a professional-looking man in a three-piece suit. He appeared to be in his late thirties, with neatly-combed brown hair, a clean-shaven face, and a nice leather briefcase hanging at his side.

His skin was deathly pale, and his brown eyes seemed alight with inhuman awareness.

"Ah, you must be Miles Edgeworth. I am sorry to bother you this evening, but I have actually come to speak with your Master. Is he in?"

Miles was certain he had gone as pale as the walking corpse that stood before him, his right hand clutching the collar of his shirt just at his throat. Panic was rushing him, and he felt an overwhelming urge to scream. He began to take a step back, but collided with something solid just behind him, making him freeze for an instant.

"Councilor Mason, what an... unexpected surprise." Miles felt a rush of relief that nearly made his knees buckle at hearing Phoenix's voice. A protective arm encircled his waist, keeping him upright while he worked to regain his composure. "I... didn't think anyone knew to find me here."

The man on the front porch gave Phoenix the smile of a politician: practiced yet false. "I admit, it took some time. You just seemed to vanish after Alastair's death. We had to do some digging to find any leads."

Carefully, Phoenix shifted Miles off to the side, moving him to stand back a few paces, out from in between himself and the other vampire. Miles gladly followed this direction, wanting none of this stranger's attention. "And why on earth would you care so much about finding me? You don't think I... killed Alastair, do you?" He sounded nervous, and this made Miles anxious as well.

The well-dressed visitor sighed and shook his head. "No, no, we figured out what happened there. It took some persuading on my part to keep the rest of the Council from pursuing you for the deaths of the other three. I knew Alastair for centuries. He never started trouble, only finished it. I convinced them he would've taught you the same."

Miles couldn't see Phoenix's face, but he could hear the suspicion and mistrust in his voice. "Okay, so why are you here?"

The councilman hesitated, then cleared his throat. "I'd rather not discuss it out in the open like this. May I come in so we might sit and talk properly?"

Phoenix didn't answer immediately, and after a pause, he turned to look back at Miles. The prosecutor expected him to ask permission for the other vampire to enter the house, but that wasn't what happened. "Go upstairs."

Indignation surged, and Miles could feel a glare forming. He was about to add a biting remark and stern refusal to that expression, but Phoenix spoke first.

"_**Go**_... upstairs." The look on Phoenix's face sapped the fire right out of him, and Miles took a step back. That look brokered no argument, no questions. He was being expected to obey that order and nothing more. Miles bit his lip, but nodded and turned to leave the foyer, headed for the stairs that would take him up to his bedroom. He wanted to be angry with Phoenix for having the gall to order him around like that, in his own home no less, but logic told him there had been a good reason for it. That visitor was clearly someone important, and according to what he'd said, a much older vampire than Phoenix. This was probably for his own safety; after all, he had less than no desire to be anywhere near more of those creatures.

Miles stepped into the master bedroom and closed the door softly behind him, sighing with resignation. Well, so much for getting to spend time with Phoenix...

* * *

><p>Phoenix watched Miles retreat up the stairs and listened for the sound of the bedroom door being shut before he turned back to face the councilman. "Won't you come in, Councilor?" he then offered in a forced tone of politeness, stepping aside to allow the man entry. He decided the dining room would be good enough to sit and chat; the living room just seemed... too intimate.<p>

"It wasn't necessary to send your human away," Councilor Mason remarked as he took a seat at the dining table, setting his briefcase beside the chair. "What i have to tell you might end up concerning him as well."

Phoenix took the seat opposite the councilor, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hand. "If it does concern him, I'll tell him later myself," he stated, knowing he had to keep up a bit of a facade; he was very glad he'd been able to keep Miles from arguing with him. "Besides, he doesn't do well around others of our kind. The incident with Alastair and the others... nearly cost him his life."

The councilor frowned slightly, then nodded. "I see. Well, let me get down to business, then. I am here at the behest of the Humanist party. Your Maker was quite a powerful voice for our cause, and I've come to offer you a chance to follow in his footsteps."

It was Phoenix's turn to frown. "I've... never really been a fan of politics, Councilman. Sorry to disappoint you."

Mason raised an eyebrow. "You were an attorney in life, were you not?"

"A defense attorney," Phoenix clarified. "I didn't work for the state. I avoided that bureaucratic nonsense as much as possible. Never had a head for it."

The councilor folded his hands atop the table. "Mr. Wright, I'm not here to offer you a seat in government. You've been away from our society for a while now, not that you were too familiar with it in the first place, but things are heating up. The Imperialists are starting to take some... drastic actions, and they look like they are on the verge of revealing our existence to the world in some of the most heinous and despicable ways. Thus, our side must react. We need supporters, strong voices and known faces to represent us when the time comes. As I understand it, you were once well-known and well-loved in this area."

Phoenix reached up to rub the back of his neck. "Uh... 'Well-loved' might be more of a case-by-case description, but, yeah, I guess I was sort of known for a while there."

"You had a certain... charisma, according to what I have seen," Councilor Mason continued. "A way of turning around a bad situation, and a true passion for protecting the weak. If I may speak frankly, Mr. Wright, you are _exactly_ what the Humanist movement needs to counter the damage the Imperialists are bound to cause."

Phoenix lowered his arm, now staring at the man across from him with a sober expression. "Wait... So, you're asking me to be... a figurehead for the entire Humanist movement?" Now that was an unexpected surprise and a very frightening thought. He was barely a year old, and already he was a candidate for such a prominent role in vampire society. He was being given a chance to play a huge part in a world-shattering revelation that would bring vampires out of the shadows, so to speak.

This didn't seem possible...

"Not the sole figurehead," Mason corrected. "We are seeking many personalities, some young and some old, that would be recognizable and trustworthy in the eyes of humans. You would be one of many, but it is looking like the Imperialists in this region might strike first. Your role would be crucial right from the start, if that happens."

So many things were racing through his mind by this point, many of them worries and fears. "Look, I'm just a fledgling. If I speak out for the Humanist movement, I'll be a target. By proxy, so will Miles, and chances are I'm not going to be able to fight whoever they send to shut me up."

Mason gave him an intense look. "We protect our own, Mr. Wright. We are small in number compared to human kind, so we understand that every vampire on our side is an asset, a weapon. We'll make sure you have protection. Besides, do you think that the Imperialists will forget who your Maker was and how many blows he dealt to their cause? It's likely you and your human will be targetted again anyhow. This way, you'll be safer, and you'll have a way to fight against them."

Phoenix grunted in irritation; he knew the man was probably right. Kore, Nina, and Gerald weren't just an isolated trio, and he was certain their deaths would not merely be forgotten. Kore in particular had been a very old, powerful vampire whose support and strength would be sorely missed. Killing him had been Alastair's final blow against those of their kind that embraced their bestial nature.

Slowly, Phoenix leaned back in his chair, staring past the politician while sifting through his thoughts.

"I understand that this isn't a decision you can make so lightly," Mason continued. "I will give you a few days to consider, but I ask that you make your decision before the first of July."

Phoenix returned his gaze to the older vampire's face. "Why? What happens on the first?"

Instead of answering, Mason leaned down to retrieve his briefcase. He unlocked it and plucked a piece of paper from within, sliding it across the smooth tabletop for Phoenix to read. It was an invitation and itinerary for some sort of event. As he scanned the paper, Mason spoke. "We will be holding a... convention, of sorts. There, we will be discussing the very future of our kind and making decisions that could shape the world forever. We will also be discussing how to best crush the Imperialist movement before it can destroy everything we work toward. If they are the first vampires humanity as a whole gets a look at, we could lose any hope we ever had of co-existing. As a potential public face for our movement, I would like you to attend, _with_ your human, if you please."

Phoenix's gaze snapped up from the invitation. "Why does Miles have to be there?"

Mason met his suspicious gaze calmly. "We are supposed to be promoting peace and cohabitation with humans, Mr. Wright. Having a human at your side that appears to trust you reinforces that ideal, wouldn't you say?"

Phoenix sighed, placing a hand against his forehead. "Yeah, I guess you've got a point." He paused for another few seconds, then leaned back in his chair. "All right, I'll think about it. I'm not making any promises, though. This is... kind of a lot to ask of someone, you know?"

Mason nodded. "Of course. I am aware, and I thank you for giving this your consideration. I do hope to see you and your human next weekend. Just... make sure to read the information about the dress code. I don't think you've ever been to this type of gathering before; we have to portray a certain appearance to avoid suspicion, given the way we all look."

With a wry grin, Phoenix nodded. "Yeah, I know. Alastair told me about that."

Giving a curt nod of his own, Councilor Mason stood up, latched his briefcase, and began to move toward the door. "I will leave you to your thoughts and the rest of your night. Good evening, Mr. Wright."

"Councilor."

There was no need to escort the man out, as he was gone in a blink, closing the door behind himself. Phoenix went after him only to flip the deadbolt, and then turned to face the stairs.

He hoped Miles wouldn't be too upset with him for earlier, but he was certain this new development would not please the prosecutor in the slightest. Still... it was an important event, and they could be a part of it. It could also mean the end of all these lies and charades that had been leaving the poor man so stressed and on-edge the past six months.


	4. Chapter 4

(**A/N: **Hai! I come bearing prons! *throws them at you* )

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Four**

Miles lay on his back in bed, arms folded behind his head and staring at the ceiling. There was a book lying on the nightstand beside the lit lamp, but he found he was too distracted by anxiety to actually read it. He'd been hearing their voices drift up from the kitchen, but he couldn't make out the words. Everything had gone quiet now, so he was just waiting to see what would come next.

His heart leaped into his throat when the doorknob turned, but he exhaled to relax when he saw Phoenix step in. "Sorry about that," the brunette man said as he shut the door and came over to crawl onto the bed. He came up beside Miles and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Miles briefly closed his eyes to compose himself, but opened them again to look into Phoenix's when he spoke. "No, I'm not angry. I... understand why you did it. However, I... would like an explanation. Who was that man, and why was it necessary to bring him into my home?"

Phoenix flopped down next to him, lying on his side and draping an arm over the prosecutor's chest. "He was a government official, one of the Councilors for this region. Pretty important man, actually. I... couldn't exactly turn him down, but I thought it'd be best if you were out of sight. He sides with the Humanist movement, but... well... he's a politician. You never know what they _actually_ believe; they just side with whoever they think will get them farther, you know?"

"All too well..." Miles recalled Phoenix's explanation of the factions within vampire society. His first explanation had been a relatively simple one, but he had elaborated during their time living together. Those who called themselves Humanists believed vampires should reveal their existence and try to fit into human society, while the Imperialists believed that vampires should take over human society and rule as the superior species. Phoenix obviously supported the former, as his Maker had, but he had been trying to avoid other vampires and their society since Alastair's death. "So... what is it he wanted?" Miles dreaded the answer to that question, but he felt he needed to know it.

Phoenix looked to have been dreading this question, and took some time to collect his thoughts and brace himself for whatever he was about to say. "Okay, so, you know how I told you that it's getting harder and harder for my kind to stay hidden, what with modern technology and record-keeping and all? Well, apparently, the Imperialists have decided they've had enough of hiding. They've gotten impatient, and Councilman Mason siad they've started... acting, causing trouble. He thinks they're about to do something drastic, and he wants to either preempt it, or have counter-measures in place."

The implications of these words were staggering. Miles was glad Phoenix took a pause, because he needed time to process this. On one hand, the thought was absolutely terrifying. It could mean the start of a war, and not a strictly political one, either. This could get violent and bloody; it could destroy life as everyone knew it.

On the other hand, it meant relief. It meant he could finally stop lying to everyone, stop keeping secrets. It meant Phoenix could show himself again, and that the friends he'd left behind would no longer have to grieve for him.

Miles swallowed hard, deciding to prompt Phoenix to continue. "So... what role has he asked you to play in all of this?"

Phoenix peered down at him in silence for a time, then moved his hand to start tracing fingers through his fine silver locks. The gesture was soothing, and it seemed to help take a little bit of the impact out of the words that followed. "Apparently, he wants me to be something like a spokesman for the Humanist movement, a representative, i guess. He says that with my reputation in this region and my ideals, I would make a good public face for my kind. Basically, they'd put me on stage at press conferences, public events, or even on television to tell people how cute and cuddly we actually are and that we just wanna' be friends."

Miles couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of that last statement. "I do hope those were not his exact words, Wright."

"Heh... no, I'm just being an asshole," Phoenix confessed with a little grin, leaning down to share a short kiss with his human lover. "But seriously, that's the essence of it. I'd be one of the people whose job it is to make humans trust us, and... well... he wants me to bring you along in this. He said our relationship would be a good show of the Humanist ideals. After all, you're human and you trust me, so it should follow that _all_ humans can trust vampires."

Miles knew quite well that it was not so simple, and he could tell that Phoenix was being sardonic as well. Phoenix had always been somewhat of an idealist, and Miles knew he himself was guilty of the same from time to time. However, they were both grounded enough to know things would not go smoothly. It was simply an impossibility given the circumstances and the lessons taught by history.

Still, a change was coming whether they wanted it to or not. Was it not wise to be prepared?

Miles stared at the ceiling for a time, mulling over this situation while enjoying the feeling of Phoenix playing with his hair. He wasn't sure for how long he remained silent, but eventually he asked the obvious question. "So... what are you going to do?"

"I told him I'd think about it." A non-committal answer, likely the exact same one Miles would have given in that situation. "I wanted to come talk to you about it first, since it would involve you, too. I might have to act like I'm totally in charge in front of people like him, but I want you to know I don't actually think that way. I mean... I try not to... I'll admit it's hard sometimes..."

Miles shifted his gaze to make eye-contact with Phoenix. studying his face. That concern had indeed lurked in the back of his mind after witnessing Phoenix's behavior the previous night, amplified by the way he'd given orders upon the councilor's arrival. It was comforting to hear that his life was indeed not being forcibly taken over. "I... suppose I see the benefits in such an arrangement, but... I cannot say I like the idea of advertising our relationship as if we are Hollywood celebrities seeking media attention. As you may have noticed, I value my privacy."

Phoenix nodded emphatically. "Oh, I know. Believe me, i know. Getting you to talk about yourself is like pulling teeth. Besides, doing this could also be dangerous. The two factions are basically at war, and this whole 'coming out' thing could remove 'basically' from that description. Councilor Mason said we'd be protected if we decided to go through with this, and made a pretty good point when he said they might target us anyway because of what happened back at Alastair's place. So... if they keep their word, it... might actually be safer for both of us to take the offer."

The thought of becoming the target of an entire faction of savage killers was not an attractive one, no, but Miles supposed that - in his line of work - there were plenty of dangerous people who would be glad to see him dead. Still, he wagered the Imperialist vampires were probably a little more dangerous than a human mafia, though he supposed he could be wrong. They were probably less selective about their victims, though, which made them a more prominent threat. Besides, the way Phoenix had worded it sounded like being in the limelight would be their best chance to survive, and he could see the logic in that. The more people knew who you were, the more they would notice if you went missing.

"All in all," he began after a time, "this seems like a noble undertaking. I just... I am uncertain about what it will involve and... what sort of state the world is going to find itself in once this secret gets out."

Phoenix nodded grimly. "Yeah, I know. Nobody has any idea what to expect, really. The Council just wants to be prepared. I guess that's all they can really do." He looked away, staring off into the middle-distance while still absently toying with Miles' hair. Miles said nothing, just watched the other man think, and Phoenix soon met his gaze again. "I'm going to leave this up to you," Phoenix finally said. "If you'd rather not, we can just hide out here and I'll do the best I can to protect you if things go south."

Miles let his eyes fall shut, just trying to focus on the soothing sensation Phoenix was offering him. "I'd rather not make a decision tonight. It's too soon..."

"We have until the beginning of July to decide. So, a week."

Miles nodded slowly, saying nothing. He wanted to leave it at that for tonight, and Phoenix seemed to sense this. Miles shivered a little as he felt the other man's lips on his neck, planting gentle kisses. "Now, how was your day?"

"A bit lonely," Miles admitted, just lying still and enjoying the attention, "but I suppose that cannot be helped. Nothing of note happened. Well... I received a call from Ms. Fey this morning, but..."

"Ah..." He could hear the pain in that single syllable, and Miles wished he hadn't had to bring it up. "Well, if things go as we're hoping, I might get to see her again soon." His optimism brought a small smile to Miles' lips. "I can't wait to see the look on her face when she figures out there are more than just spirits wandering around."

Miles laughed softly, and that was followed by a tiny moan as Phoenix began working at a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. "Mmh... Ever the optimist, aren't you, Wright?"

"Hey, I'm immortal now," Phoenix pointed out. "Can't spend eternity thinking the worst of everything; I'd lose my damn mind!"

"Fair enough." It was difficult to think of anything more substantial to say when Phoenix was sending such a pleasant tingling sensation through his body, down to his center where he was feeling the beginnings of arousal. "I personally can't even fathom having so long to live."

A low chuckle sounded in Phoenix's throat, and Miles thought he detected a little bitterness in it. "I try not to think about it myself." The hand that had been stroking his hair now traveled downward, skimming down the side of his face and neck, over his shirt, and to where much of his blood was starting to flow. Miles hissed through clenched teeth as Phoenix took a firm hold of the growing bulge, giving Miles a hard squeeze. "Ah ha! Didn't get enough last night, hm?"

Miles dipped his head back, consequently exposing his throat. "Nngh... I could... ask the same of you."

A low, husky laugh poured into his ear as powerful arms encircled him and pulled him flush against Phoenix. "Miles, if you could handle it, I'd never stop fucking you." A dark blush bloomed across Miles' cheeks upon hearing such a thing said to him in such an intimate way. It was both embarrassing and exhilarating to think he could bring out such behavior in someone like Phoenix, and he knew the former was probably foolish. It wasn't as if anyone else could see or hear them, would know what was said or done in this room.

Miles let his eyes fall shut, deciding talk could wait another night.

* * *

><p>Phoenix watched as Miles shut his eyes: a sign of surrender. The beast within him surged, roaring with triumph and hunger, and it took all of his willpower to keep the animal caged. Phoenix shifted his weight more on top of Miles and captured his mouth in a fiery kiss, tongue eagerly delving in to explore and taste. He felt Miles' hands slide up his back and into his hair, lightly gripping the spikes. He felt an urge to reach up and push those hands away, simply to exert his dominance, but he stifled that urge. He just wanted to be with Miles; he didn't <em>need<em> to control _everything!_ He wanted Miles to touch him, to participate. So long as he could be _mostly_ in control, it would be a reasonable compromise with his nature.

He had been worried about how Miles would respond to such a need, but so far, he'd been surprised at the living man's willingness. It made things much less complicated; he just had to avoid crossing the line... wherever it might be. Only time would tell, he supposed.

When he broke the kiss, Phoenix raised himself up to peer down at the other man, watching as he took in several deep breaths, listening to how his heart beat faster, pumping his blood to all the right parts of his body. Unexpectedly, as he peered down at Miles' face, he felt a burst of sentimentality. He reached up to caress a flushed cheek, one he would describe as 'pale' were it not being compared to his own skin. "You have no idea how beautiful you are." He watched a bit of surprise and a hint of confusion appear in those stunning gray eyes that were always filled with an intelligence the likes of which he'd never seen in another person. He traced an index finger over Miles' lips, swollen from the kiss. "You know, I used to just... stare at you sometimes in court, when no one was paying attention."

A bashful smile came over the other man's face. "Eh... Well... that's... a bit creepy, actually."

Phoenix chuckled, smirking a little as he slid his hand back into those gorgeous, silken silver locks that gleamed in the lamplight. "Well, when you think about it, it's probably the least creepy thing I did. After all, I _did_ change my career path in large part to meet you, when trying to contact you failed."

He watched as Miles' expression slowly worked its way into a thoughtful frown and then a slight glare; he loved every expression that lovely face made. "You're right: that is actually rather unsettling. Perhaps I should reconsider this arrangement."

Someone who didn't know Edgeworth and wasn't as skilled at reading people might have become worried at this point, but Phoenix Wright just grinned. "Oh, come on. You actually expect me to believe _that_ would scare you away when _these_ didn't?" Phoenix parted his lips and gave a short growl as he extended his feeding fangs. Miles' glare melted away, and though he tried to hide it, there was a little apprehension in his features now. Phoenix had grown used to that and knew it would take time before his lover was completely comfortable with what he was.

There was also a little curiosity that made its way into Miles' expression, and cautiously, one of his hands came up to touch Phoenix's chin. Miles considered for a moment, and then the blush on his cheeks darkened and he averted his gaze. Phoenix couldn't help but laugh. "Go on," he encouraged, keeping his mouth open a little. "I won't bite... yet."

Miles shook a little with a silent, nervous laugh, then swallowed. His index finger moved to Phoenix's bottom lip, and then gingerly touched one of his fangs. Phoenix had to instantly tighten his grip on his own leash in order to keep his word as nerves were set off, and Miles' anxiety wasn't helping matters. He couldn't stop the reflex of his tongue flicking out to taste the warm skin, which made Miles flinch away. He exhaled, realizing the beast's jaws had not snapped shut, and resumed his curious exploration. As he relaxed and Phoenix got used to the feeling of someone touching his fangs, it became easier to control himself. He could not, however, stop himself from salivating.

"They are... smoother than I expected..." Miles muttered, still looking sheepish for some reason. He drew his finger away, the tip glistening with moisture.

"Trust me, the bite would hurt a hell of a lot more if they weren't," Phoenix pointed out, deciding it was time to get started undressing his lover. With fingers never so nimble in life, he unbuttoned Miles' shirt and worked it off of his arms before tugging it out from under him. He ran a hand over the defined muscles of his chest and flat stomach, feeling that statuesque body shiver under his touch. He knew his hand was cold, but he could tell the reaction was not entirely due to the temperature. He circled a fingertip around Miles' navel, watching his face contort at the sensation: so beautiful.

He heard the subtle increase in Miles' heart rate as he traced that finger down the trail of fine hairs that disappeared beneath his slacks. The skin grew hotter as he went lower, but soon those pants were getting in the way. He made quick work of undoing them and hooked his fingers under the waistband of both the slacks and the silk boxer-briefs below. He had them off in one swift motion, leaving Miles in nothing but his socks. Phoenix now had a perfect frontal view, and he returned to what he'd been doing before, smirking when he saw Miles twitch a little in anticipation.

His finger traced only a short distance down the length of the growing erection, then changed course to trail along his inner thighs. Miles made a little noise of frustration, trying to glare up at him. "Y-you're cruel," he accused, making Phoenix laugh. The former attorney leaned forward, sliding an arm beneath Miles' shoulders and pulling the other man against his chest.

Phoenix placed his mouth at Miles' ear, and he felt the living man shudder when he spoke. "Are you honestly surprised I would enjoy watching you squirm?" He took Miles' earlobe between his teeth, careful not to use his fangs as he lightly scraped the skin. He was able to feel every little movement Miles made, and feeling the warm body's reaction to what he was doing was so very enticing. Still clothed, he pushed himself against the man beneath him, grinding him into the mattress. Miles' hands were around his back, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

He was well aroused by this point, and he knew Miles could feel it. He moved his mouth to a spot on his lover's neck he knew would drive him crazy, and he teased that spot mercilessly, reining in his most pressing desire in order to work the other man into a feverish state.

Then, he drew back, raised himself up, let Miles drop back to the pillows, and rolled over onto his back with his arms up behind his head. It took much of that precious self-control to keep from snickering when he saw the look of utter bewilderment on Miles' face. "W... What are you...?" He trailed off, seeing what Phoenix was sure had to be an evil smirk that had formed on his pale lips.

"Oh, don't get the wrong idea," Phoenix remarked, bringing one arm down to casually grip Miles' wrist and guide his hand to the button of his pants. "I'm just tired of doing all the work."

He watched confusion turn to indignation turn to resignation, and then Miles began to move. He curled onto his side and then turned over to sit on his heels, and Phoenix observed every single shift of his body with the hungry gaze of a predator, his tongue tracing his upper lip. He let that hand drop down beside him as Miles began unfastening his trousers. The prosecutor tugged a little at the garments, then flicked his gaze up to Phoenix's face, clearly wondering if he was going to adjust himself so they could be pulled down. Phoenix didn't move a muscle, just watched him expectantly.

Miles bit his lower lip slightly then dropped his chin, his bangs falling forward to shadow his face as he returned his focus to the task at hand. Unable to actually remove the pants, he simply folded the flaps on either side of the zipper back and then pushed down the front of the boxers beneath to free Phoenix's member. His eyes came up again, but when Phoenix neither did nor said anything, they drifted down and his long, manicured fingers coiled around, sending a wave of heat through the cold body.

Now this was truly an exercise in self-control for Phoenix, just sitting still and letting Miles touch him in such a way. Of course, he was still in command, but his nature was to be active, and he had to resist that urge for instant gratification in order to prolong his enjoyment. After all, watching Miles do this - the way his muscles moved and the look of concentration on his face - was certainly satisfying in its own way. Not to mention, having those warm hands on him felt amazing; it made him want to feel more.

When he could no longer stand to wait, Phoenix lifted his hand again and placed it on the back of Miles' head, applying just a little pressure to coax him downward. Even as he did this, part of him expected resistance, resistance that he simply could not tolerate when he was this far gone. To his relief, Miles didn't fight him and simply shifted forward, dropping down to elbows and knees. Phoenix gritted his teeth when he felt soft lips trail along his length and up to the tip, but he was impatient and pushed on the back of Miles' head again, a wordless signal that Miles seemed to understand.

When that hot, wet mouth enveloped him, Phoenix shuddered and groaned, dipping his head back against the headboard. "That's good..." he praised, entangling his fingers in his lover's hair and making sure he couldn't pull all the way off. Lips and tongue slid farther down, and Phoenix tilted his head forward again in order to watch his sweet, gorgeous human lover pleasure him. It was a sight he would never forget, and one he would hopefully get to see again and again.

As Miles' head began to bob up and down, Phoenix let his fingers slip free of silver strands and travel over the back of his neck and along the curve of his spine. The warm body quivered at his touch, which kept moving lower until they found their destination. When they touched such a sensitive area, Miles lurched in surprise and choked, instinctively trying to draw back and raise himself up. Phoenix did not allow this: his other hand came down in a flash to grip the hair at the top of the prosecutor's head, firmly keeping him in place while he teased his entrance. He heard a delightful little whimper from the living man, and had at least enough mercy left not to force his head down before he could regulate his breath somewhat.

Aware that his fingers were dry, Phoenix had enough of a mind not to try and force them too deep. He teased enough to elicit lovely little noises that were helping to drive him closer and closer to what would be his first climax of the night. The fingers entwined in Miles' hair flexed as he was taken into the other man's throat, and he knew it was time to give the proper warning. "Get ready, Miles..." he said through clenched teeth, his voice much rougher than normal, backed by a low rumble in his chest.

Miles had only a couple of seconds to brace himself before Phoenix let go, throwing his head back with a deep, prolonged groan as he spilled himself into the other man's mouth. He didn't let Miles pull away until his release had run its course, and even then he was reluctant to allow it. It was when he felt the other man shaking that he knew he had to let him up for air, and thus he did so, watching contentedly as Miles shot up, gasping and coughing a little.

So adorable... Oh, the things he could do to this man!

He could no longer merely sit and watch. Phoenix moved with incredible speed, swinging himself up and around behind Miles to straddle his hips. Miles gasped in shock at the sudden movement, but Phoenix gave him no time to catch up, wrapping his arms around the living man's chest and latching onto the side of his neck. Not having softened all that much, he pressed himself hard against Miles' backside, a promise of what was coming.

He could sense some fearful apprehension from the man in his grasp, but again he was too far gone to stop; it only excited him further. His presence of mind was just enough to remember the tube of lubricant lying on the nightstand and that it was necessary to avoid injuring his lover, so he snatched it quickly to apply it before his patience truly reached its end.

He could feel just how tense Miles was, especially when he made his entrance. The resistance didn't stop his forward momentum, and he heard a few pained gasps from the man in his arms. The beast laughed, but Phoenix knew he _had_ to gather some measure of composure, provide some reassurance; he was frightening the man he loved.

"Relax," he whispered into Miles' ear, stilling once he was fully sheathed. "Just relax... I'm still here... You don't have to be afraid..." The gravel in his voice wasn't exactly soothing, but he hoped his words would be and he forced himself not to move.

Miles took several quick, almost panicked breaths before they started growing deeper, more controlled, slower. Taut muscles began to slacken and his heartbeat slowed a little. Just when Phoenix thought he could no longer stand to wait, Miles spoke, though he sounded choked. "I-I'm okay..."

That was the best he could do. Phoenix flexed his body and began rocking his hips in a quick back and forth motion. With his new-found strength and agility, it was difficult to judge how much of it he could safely use; back at Alastair's place, he had literally begun to crush his poor captive during a severe lapse in control. Even now, he could feel the body beneath him shake each time his hips made contact, jarred with the impact. This told him the power he was using was about all Miles could handle, reinforced by the hint of pain in the wonderful moans and cries he was hearing.

Phoenix had not retracted his fangs since bringing them out during the earlier conversation, and with a carnal growl, he sank them into warm flesh as if it were no tougher than butter, groaning as hot blood erupted into his mouth. He could never decide if it was just his attraction to the prosecutor making it seem so, but Miles always tasted so much better than anyone else from whom he'd fed. He drank greedily and continued his rapid thrusts, listening to the sweet symphony of noise around him: flesh striking flesh, the creaking of the wooden bed frame, and Miles - delectable and exquisite Miles and his sounds of enraptured anguish.

Phoenix had no idea how he found the strength of will to draw his fangs out, but he did. He kept his mouth in place, tongue lapping eagerly to ensure not a single drop was wasted. He could tell Miles was so very, very close, sensing the desperation. He moved one of his hands down to take a firm hold of his lover's member, stroking roughly in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, Miles," he growled in the prosecutor's ear, and that was exactly what happened. He felt the whole thing: Miles' entire body went rigid and then began to convulse with each wave, that burning heat clamped down around him, and the object in his hand spilled its seed onto the sheets below.

The warm body went slack in his arms, but he hadn't quite finished yet. It took a few more quick, deep thrusts to bring him over the edge for a second time, this one more intense than the first. If Heaven existed, this was surely what it would feel like, and it was all thanks to Miles Edgeworth, who had so graciously offered up his body. He would be eternally grateful.

With the end of his climax came a bit more clarity, and Phoenix gently lowered the limp, quivering mass that was his lover to the bed, smoothly drawing himself out. Supporting himself with a hand and knee on either side of him, Phoenix gazed down at Miles, the sight making him want to do it all over again. He could, and there wasn't a damn thing the reeling human could do about it, but he firmly told himself _**'No.'**_ Anymore and he'd be taking a bounding leap over that line, he knew.

As gently as possible, he readjusted Miles to lie properly on the bed. He got up, refastened his pants, and then quickly cleaned up the small mess they'd made. By the time he climbed back over and slid down to lie on his back, Miles was stirring. Phoenix snaked one arm under him to pull him close while drawing the comforter and top sheet to them from the foot of the bed. This time, he covered himself with it, too, as he was still fully dressed and his clothes would serve as a sufficient barrier.

Miles huddled up against his side, draping an arm across his stomach, head nestled against his chest. With his free hand, Phoenix began stroking his sweat-soaked hair again, having noticed how much Miles seemed to enjoy that. "You're amazing," was all the former defense attorney could think to say, and Miles - thoroughly exhausted and already falling asleep - managed only a quiet hum of acknowledgement. This brought a smile to Phoenix's lips, and he bent his neck to kiss the top of his lover's head.

Somewhat sated and seeing there would be no further activity, the beast settled and quieted, leaving Phoenix with a feeling of serenity as he watched Miles sleep. He would have to depart once more when morning came, but for now he would forget about that and cherish what time he could spend like this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Five**

Friday evening found Miles going over the contents of a small suitcase.

He slid his fingers back into his hair as he considered, trying to decide if there was anything else he should bring along; he wanted to be well-prepared, as always. They would only be staying the weekend, but even so he'd had to decline a case or two, as he wasn't sure how much time he would have to work. He had not a clue what the accommodations would be like, though Phoenix had assured him they would be comfortable. After all, he would not be the only human present - not by a long shot.

His hand went again to rest on the outfit Phoenix had picked out for him, an irritated frown forming on his face. He still didn't understand why he had to wear such a ridiculous getup! This was supposed to be a serious, professional gathering to discuss the future between humans and vampires, a situation of global proportions. Why, then, did he have to dress in-

"Ready to go?"

Miles sighed and flipped the suitcase closed, guiding the zipper around in a practiced motion. "Yes, I suppose so..." He felt Phoenix's arms coil around his waist from behind, and this time, he didn't flinch. He had been gradually growing more comfortable with all of this over the past week, and so he had no qualms about leaning into that embrace and putting much of his weight into his lover's arms.

Phoenix rested his chin on Miles' shoulder. "Oh, come on: you're not still upset about that outfit, are you?"

Miles grunted irritably. "If you wish to dress me like a gimp, I would rather keep it between us, behind closed doors. I have no desire to be paraded around in such a costume."

Phoenix sighed, lifting him right off the ground and turning to sit on the edge of the bed with Miles in his lap. "I won't be 'parading' you around, Miles, and no one is going to think anything of it. You'll fit in, and I promise you don't look like a gimp."

Miles drew in his knees and turned slightly so he could look back at his lover. "How exactly will I fit in at a political convention dressed in tight black leather?"

"Normally, you wouldn't," Phoenix explained, reaching up to absently toy with Miles' hair; he could never keep his hands to himself anymore when they were together, but Miles didn't mind. "But, we can't exactly do things the normal way. Just think about it: if a bunch of really well-dressed people start gathering, people might get curious, wonder what's going on. It might attract media attention, reporters trying to catch a glimpse of some important people. Instead, they'll find a bunch of really pale freaks talking about nonsense."

Miles blinked. "And... dressing in this fashion will solve this problem... how?"

Phoenix smirked a little. "C'mon, you remember 'goths' and 'emos' from when you were a teenager, right? Basically, the idea is to make everyone _expect_ a bunch of pale freaks talking about nonsense. That way, the gathering doesn't draw as much attention. People just shrug it off and don't assume they'll find anyone important. And, if some people from that scene end up wandering in to join in the 'party' or whatever they think is going on, we can just hypnotize them. They aren't as likely to be carrying camcorders."

Miles quirked an eyebrow. "If I recall, most young people these days have smart phones with which they will not part so long as they draw breath. I would think teenagers would be _more_ likely to be carrying cameras." He had never really been familiar with the styles of his peers, even during his teenage years. He had been home-schooled until starting classes at University, and even then he'd paid little attention to other students. What he knew about the 'scenes' Phoenix had mentioned was limited to portrayals on television, an unreliable source of which his knowledge was still limited.

Phoenix nodded. "Yeah, but that kind of situation is a lot easier to contain if we don't look like some kind of organized crime family. I mean, that's the sort of thing people will start thinking if they stumble on such a big formal gathering no one knew about, held in the middle of nowhere, in a building with no windows."

Miles gave his lover a strange look, then sighed in resignation. "I suppose it is hardly my place to question the methods of people who have been in hiding for centuries..."

Phoenix chuckled good-naturedly and tightened his grip, leaning in for an affectionate kiss. "It'll all work out. If anyone stares at you, it'll be because you are a very sexy man, not because you don't fit in." He grinned as Miles felt his cheeks heat up and averted his gaze. He hoped no one would stare for any reason. He really wanted to avoid notice until it became necessary for him to draw attention to himself... _if_ it became necessary. He was still dubious about this entire arrangement, becoming a public face for human-vampire relations, but he saw no better options given their current circumstance.

"Now, let's get going," Phoenix murmured against his neck, where his kisses had traveled, "before I get distracted and make you too tired to drive."

* * *

><p>Miles wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Perhaps an actual hotel, but in retrospect, that would have been highly impractical. On the outside, the building just looked like an old, windowless warehouse in the middle of a lot that was much too large, but the inside looked more like a ballroom. The decor was indeed rather Gothic, complete with several stone gargoyles perched about the hall near its high ceiling. The prosecutor did very little looking around, however, far too focused on keeping a wary eye on everyone he saw. He would not normally be so open as to latch himself onto Phoenix's arm in public, but there was no scenario in which he wanted to be separated from his lover in this environment. As far as he was concerned, being Phoenix's human was the only thing keeping him safe.<p>

He saw both men and women of all races and walks of life milling about in the ballroom or heading in the same direction they were - toward the back corridor where an elevator and stairs waited to take them below ground. For those of Caucasian heritage, he was confident he could tell which were vampire and which were human, but those with darker complexions were more difficult to identify. Perhaps if he were closer, he would notice a difference in coloration, but he was not going to complain about any great distance between himself and another vampire.

As they neared the elevator, Miles felt his heart leap into his throat. It was a phobia he had still not overcome, and fortunately, Phoenix seemed to sense this, smoothly changing their course toward the stairwell instead. Miles slowly let out the sharp breath he'd taken in, releasing just a little tension with it; he could not completely relax while in such company.

Ironic: he was supposed to be a human representative for peace between the two species, and yet he was terrified of any vampire other than Phoenix.

They descended into what looked a little more like a hotel lobby, complete with a reception desk. A rather intimidating man stood guard near an opening at the other end of the room, arms folded and keen eyes surveying everyone. Phoenix approached the desk, behind which waited a woman whom Miles also instantly recognized as undead.

"Good evening. May I have your name?"

"Phoenix Wright."

She glanced down at a book before her, flipping through it momentarily and then nodding. "Ah, here you are. And is this your human?"

"Yes."

She nodded again and reached under the desk, producing a card key and sliding it toward them. "There you are. If you need anything, just dial the extension on the back there to talk to one of our staff. Enjoy your stay."

"Thanks." Phoenix finally dropped the cold professionalism he'd been holding and gave the woman one of his pleasant smiles before turning to walk toward the guarded hallway. He flashed the key, and the burly guard just nodded, waving them through. Once they had stepped into the hallway beyond, he glanced down at the key. "Okay, Room 22... Looks like it's this way." They veered right, their footsteps muffled by the dark gray carpeting. Miles watched each door go by, eager to reach their room and stay locked up inside of it until the meeting the following night. However, just as they neared the correct door, a voice stopped them.

"Phoenix Wright."

Miles tightened his grip on Phoenix's arm as they both turned to see a Hispanic woman approaching them, sporting a white blouse, a short plaid skirt, and heals that added several inches to her height. The moment Miles saw her eyes, he knew a vampire was advancing toward them, and he would have taken a step back would it not move him farther away from Phoenix. As she came to stand right in front of them, he did note that - while she was not pale - her skin tone was not as vibrant as a healthy, living person's would be; he assumed that vague gray tinge would color the flesh of any of the other undead with darker complexions.

"Mrs. Catarina Mendez," Wright greeted the woman with a friendly smile, giving her a handshake. "Good to see you again. Is your husband here?"

"Why, of course," the woman replied, reaching up to sweep some of her long, flowing black hair behind her shoulders. "He will be glad to know that Alastair's Progeny yet lives, and has come to join us, no less." Her Spanish accent was prominent, but it flowed well in her fluent English speech, making her easy to understand. Miles, however, was mostly paying attention to how her eyes were fixed on him. "And this must be your human, no?"

Phoenix reached over to place a hand on Miles' arm, both indicating him and trying to provide a little reassurance. "Yeah, this is Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, an old friend and colleague of mine. The, uh... dynamic has changed a little, obviously."

"Mm..." Catarina stepped closer, much too close for comfort in Miles' opinion. "A prosecutor, you say? He looks like quite an important man, and... quite a treat." She gave him a smile he didn't like. "Say, Mr. Wright, once you get settled in, how about you come spend some time with my husband and I? We've got a nice Japanese chica you can try, and we can take a taste of your lovely little aristocrat." She reached up to trace a long, red fingernail just beneath his right eye, and though he wanted to give her one of his most intimidating glares, he felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

Fortunately, Phoenix put an end to this by drawing him back away from her a bit, enough to get her attention. "Sorry, Mrs. Mendez, but Miles isn't too keen on being passed around. We've kind of got a... serious thing going, if you get what i mean."

Her face worked itself into a pretty pout and she sighed. "Ah, how disappointing. Well, if you change your mind and want to have a little fun, our door is open. Room 14." She stepped forward again and leaned in, now speaking directly to Miles with a small grin. "Hope to see you later, darling." With that, she swept past him, her shoulder brushing his arm. Miles felt frozen, but Phoenix didn't linger, pulling him over toward their room and unlocking it.

As soon as the door was shut behind them, Miles felt a tremor go through his entire body and his knees nearly buckled, causing him to lean on the door to keep himself upright. His chest hurt it was so tight with anxiety, and the rush of relief after being away from it all was nauseating. He shut his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. When he felt strong arms wrap around his waist, he fell into them, leaning instead on Phoenix's shoulder and inhaling his scent with each breath.

"It's all right," Phoenix muttered, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. "No one here is going to touch you without my permission. They like to talk and tease, but you don't have to feel threatened in a place like this. There are rules, and they're enforced."

It took some time before Miles trusted his own voice, which still trembled when he did finally decide to speak. "I thought... these were vampires who believed we are their equals. So far, everyone has looked at me as if... as if..."

Phoenix gently hushed him, sliding an arm down behind his knees to lift him and carry him across the room to the large bed at the far wall. Despite being a grown man of the same relative size as Phoenix, Miles was cradled like a child in his lover's arms as he sat on the edge of the mattress. "Listen, Miles, it's... really hard to explain how we think, because it isn't really normal, er... human. The people here, they... Well, they understand that humans aren't just mindless animals and want to integrate themselves back into human society, but at the end of the day, humans are prey for us. People like Catarina tend to prefer humans that... uh... kinda' like the idea of that, I guess. They find people that let them indulge in their nature, and that's sort of the more common case. I'm... well... I'm kind of an oddball. Might have something to do with how recently I was turned, but..." He paused, lightly chewing his lip in thought. "Basically, they'd try to avoid holding a human captive against their will, but they'd find it really strange that I actually care about you and highly value your opinion on things."

Miles stared down at his hands, which he had clasped in his lap. He was calming down, but was still a bit shaky. "And with a mindset like that, how can they expect to be accepted into civilized society?"

Phoenix's initial response was a derisive snort which made Miles feel suddenly like a naive child, causing him to turn his face away. Phoenix changed his attitude quickly and lightly grasped his chin, turning it back and tilting it up so that their lips could meet. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly. "It's just... I've learned a lot about people since I was turned, a side of humanity I sort of ignored in life. I guess it's not really a _bad_ side, but a lot of people are a lot more depraved than you might think. And really, just look at how the depictions of vampires have changed in recent years; they're getting pretty close to what we're really like, and a lot of people are _really_ into that. Besides, I think that if we can more freely interact with humans, it'd be a lot more likely that someone of my kind could actually find more meaningful relationships. Then, maybe the general attitudes of people would start to change."

Miles gazed silently up at the man whose shoulder his head lay against, studying his eyes and thinking. Since his disbarment and his change, Phoenix had become darker and more cynical in many ways. However, he still had hopes for a better future, still had ideals and virtues. It came as no surprise to Miles that he could avoid falling into line with the common way of thinking, that he had been able to retain so much of his humanity beyond his struggles with self-control. After all, if anyone could perform such a feat, Phoenix Wright could.

Miles let out a heavy sigh and shut his eyes, letting his body go slack. "I apologize... I would just... rather stay in here as often as possible. Despite agreeing to help with this co-existence movement, I do not feel safe here."

"I understand." Phoenix placed a hand on the side of his head, lightly toying with his hair. "We can just stay in here and watch awful TV. And..." Miles felt Phoenix's lips touch his temple. "...I don't have to leave you in the morning. I mean, I won't be very lively, I'm afraid, but I'll still make a good pillow."

Miles couldn't help but smile. As tense and uneasy as he felt in this place, Phoenix just had a way of lightening the mood. Plus, not having to wake up alone in the morning would be a nice change. The thought gave him a feeling of warmth and joy. Slowly, he reopened his eyes and lifted his head in order to finally look around. They were in what looked like a simple hotel room, complete with a television atop a chest of drawers, a bedside table and lamp, a kitchenette, a dining table, and a bathroom. These rooms were clearly designed with human occupants in mind, as vampires did not need such accommodations.

"Not exactly luxurious," Phoenix remarked as he lay back on the bed, letting Miles slide off to lie on his arm against his side, "but it's clean and it's got what you'll need."

Miles took another glance around, then looked back at his lover, a half-smirk on his lips. "Actually, compared to your usual sleeping arrangements, I do believe this could be considered luxury."

Phoenix let out a hearty laugh. "Yeah, i guess you're right."

"I have been wondering..." Miles readjusted himself to lie on his stomach, supported on his elbows. "Why exactly did you and your Maker sleep in that dank cellar? There were plenty of vacant rooms, all underground. I am beginning to think Alastair was simply one for theatrics, having you dress all in black and sleeping in a cave."

Phoenix chuckled with a wry grin. "Yeah, he kind of was, but he did explain why we slept down there. He said it was best we never get used to unnecessary comforts. He lived for almost a thousand years, and he told me that our kind never knows where they'll end up next. There aren't always comfortable places where the sun can't reach, so his opinion was to just get used to resting in primitive conditions."

Miles frowned in thought. "I... suppose there is some logic in that, given the experiences he must have had. However..." He shifted a little closer in order to press a kiss to the side of Phoenix's jaw. "I think perhaps it is time I see to making my basement a bit cozier. Then, perhaps we could spend some nights there, when I do not have any engagements the following morning." He watched as his words brought a smile to Phoenix's face, and he felt a bit of pressure on the back of his head, guiding him in for a proper kiss.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea, love." Miles felt himself blushing, and Phoenix's smile became more of a mischievous grin. "What, don't like that one? How about sweetheart? Darling? Babe? Sugar? De-"

"S-stop it!" Face scarlet, Miles gave Phoenix's shoulder a hard shove, getting only a playful laugh in response. "Pet names are foolish." His cheeks were burning, and he couldn't look directly at the man responsible for it. The contrast in temperature was startling when Phoenix placed his hands on either side of his face, coaxing him to look back and lightly stroking a thumb over his lips.

"Oh, lighten up a little. You'll get used to it, and I'll try not to fit you with any of the really sappy ones." Phoenix slid his hands back into Miles' hair, bringing their lips together for another, longer kiss. When he broke it, he tilted his chin enough to let their foreheads touch. "I can't always be so formal with you, you know. You're far too adorable."

Miles hadn't thought the flush could get any darker, but he'd been very wrong. "Y-you're doing this on purpose," he stammered with an attempt at an accusatory glare.

Phoenix just chuckled. "Maybe a little, but it's still true." With that, he captured Miles' mouth again, this kiss more heated than the last. His hands moved down to Miles' back and pulled him in closer, clearly ready to forget about where they were for a while. Miles was certainly not about to argue, despite being tired from a day of work and the late hour.

Miles soon found himself on his back, hands eager to expose him and lips hungry at his neck. He briefly hoped the walls of this facility were well soundproofed, but he soon became lost in their passion and no longer cared.


	6. Chapter 6

(**A/N: **I apologize in advance. You'll see why.)

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Six**

The incessant ringing of his cellphone was what woke him the following morning.

Miles groaned and shifted a little, momentarily surprised to feel something solid beside him on the bed. He blinked his eyes open, and the first thing he saw was Phoenix, lying on his back with his arms up behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling. He was clothed while Miles was not, and with a small smile, the prosecutor recalled falling asleep using his chest as a pillow the previous night. The sight of him like that was... in a way unnerving, but it was also a wonderful feeling to wake up beside him, not alone and wanting.

"Mind answering that or turning it off?"

Miles gasped when Phoenix suddenly spoke, having expected him to be out cold - he looked dead, after all. "I'm sorry..." he muttered, quickly moving off the bed and searching for his phone; it had apparently been knocked off the nightstand at some point. He found it lying just under the bed and snatched it, taking it across the room as he answered it without even checking the caller ID. "H-hello? This is-"

_"There you are, Mr. Edgeworth! You usually answer faster than that!"_

Ah, of course... "Good morning, Ms. Fey... I... apologize for the delay." He turned around as he pulled on his bathrobe, meeting Phoenix's stare and feeling his heart sink. He supposed he couldn't expect Phoenix to be able to rest and tune everything out while he was making so much noise, and his attention would surely be held by this conversation, of which he was sure the vampire could clearly hear the other end. "I'm afraid I still have no news to offer you."

_"Yeah, I kinda' figured,"_ came Maya's response, sounding a little down-trodden. _"Actually, I... uh... wanted to talk to you about something... It's... it's not really something I wanna' think about, but... well... It might help us... um... rule out some possibilities."_

Miles drew in his lower lip, not liking the sound of this one bit. "...Very well. Could you elaborate?"

There was a pause from the other line, and Maya sounded even more hesitant as she began to speak. _"Uh... Well... I would rather... um... talk to you about it in person, if that's okay. I'm, uh... actually at Nick's office right now, and... I was wondering if... if maybe you could meet me here?"_

Miles flinched, and he saw Phoenix raise himself up on an elbow, looking surprised and concerned. "O-oh... Ms. Fey, I'm terribly sorry, but... I am out of town for the weekend. On business. I'm afraid I can't meet you in person right now." A feeling of dread was beginning to nest in his stomach. She was probably about to tell him she'd just wait until he got back, and then she would have that glowing stone thing and be able to see that he was lying and then-

_"Oh... Okay, then. Well, I guess I could tell you my idea over the phone, but I... sorta' don't want to try it while I'm by myself."_ The young woman's voice was starting to tremble, and Miles' imagination was running wild with possibilities of what crazy idea she had gotten into her head.

"...All right. What exactly did you have in mind?"

_"I... I-I..."_ She hesitated again, and he could hear her swallowing down her emotions. _"I-I want to try... channeling Nick..."_

A ringing silence filled Miles' ears, and all the while, he was staring into slightly glassy blue eyes across the room. To think that Maya would suggest such a thing, that she would come to even consider the possibility that Phoenix had died, was unbelievable to him. The girl just... didn't seem the type to let her hopes sink so low.

Then again... she was growing up, was she not? That incident at the temple and what had resulted from it had surely taken a toll on her innocence, and now with Phoenix's long-term disappearance, he supposed he couldn't blame her for losing faith.

_"Mr. Edgeworth? A-are you there? Say something."_

Her voice drew him sharply back to attention and got him grasping for _something_ to say. "I... see," was all that came out at first, and he frantically searched for more. "Ms. Fey, are you... certain such a thing would really give us any information? I'm afraid I have not been entirely convinced that-"

_"Look, I know you don't really believe in my powers just because of what happened when you were a kid, but they're real and my mother wasn't a fraud!"_ Miles brought his hand to his heart, wincing yet again. He'd just been trying to find something to say, to sound normal and like he hadn't changed so much over the past six months. After all, the discovery of vampires had led him to the understanding that jsut because something hadn't been discovered or explained thus far, didn't mean it couldn't exist. He still believed there had to be a scientific explanation for all of it, but science just... hadn't gotten that far yet. Still, if he were to sudden believe in ghosts and spirit mediums, wouldn't she get suspicious and wonder what had brought on the change?

Well, maybe not. Maybe she'd just be less angry with him now.

"I... I apologize. I didn't mean to..."

_"Sorry! It's just... I know what I'm talking about, Mr. Edgeworth, and I wish you'd give me a little credit. This is the one thing I can do to help, and so I... I want to try it. It might not tell us much, or it might... tell us everything..."_ The dread was apparent in her tone at the last few words, and Miles could somewhat understand why. _"If... if Nick is alive, the channeling just won't work. We won't know where he is or what's happened to him, but we'll know he's not dead! But... if... if he is... Um... Well, if it does work, then... then we'll... know what happened..."_

_And what if he's somewhere in between...?_

Miles let out a slow sigh, having to turn his back to Phoenix; he couldn't look at the other man while having this conversation. It was far too strange. "I... I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this, Ms. Fey. Could you... perhaps give me some time to consider it?"

_"...Okay... Just... promise me you'll actually seriously think about it?"_ Her voice was pleading, and the guilt overwhelmed him. He couldn't deny her this one chance to *help*, but making such a promise would be another blatant lie. Perhaps he should just tell her they could go through with it. Surely, it would just fail and all would be as it was now.

...But what if something went terribly wrong...?

"I..." He swallowed, trying to make his voice sound a little less choked. "You have my word. I will consider this option seriously."

_"Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth!"_ She sounded relieved and hopeful, making him feel worse. _"It's really all I know to do at this point, and if it tells us ANYTHING at all, it'll be worth it!"_

"I... agree." Boy, was he glad they were speaking over the phone and not face-to-face. Anyone could have picked up on how anxious he was. "Be safe in the meantime, Ms. Fey. You know what the city is like."

_"I'll be fine! Have fun on your business thingy, and I'll see you when you get back! Bye!"_

"Goodbye..." Miles drew the phone away from his ear, noting that she had hung up and simply dropping the device on the counter. He released another frustrated sigh and squeezed his temples between thumb and forefinger.

"How often does she call?"

Miles turned around to see that Phoenix was still awake and watching him. He could see a bit of blood starting to form in the undead man's pores, an unpleasant sight. "She... has been in contact with me a few times a month since your disappearance. Despite my assurance that I would contact her should I learn anything, she... continues to call."

Phoenix dropped onto his back once more, looking troubled. "...Poor Maya... I wish I could just tell her... I hate that she had to worry like that, and... I hate that you have to keep lying to her."

Miles slowly came back to the bed and crawled in beside his lover, lying down on his side. "Perhaps, when all this is done, you will be able to. In the meantime, I... am not sure how to proceed with this... plan of hers."

"I say just do it," Phoenix muttered, sounding quite tired. "I mean, I guess I'm sort of dead, but I'm still me. I'm not just a drifting spirit, or whatever happens when people really die. The channeling will fail and she can keep hoping."

Miles watched him for a time, then nodded in resignation. "Yes, you are probably right..."

A tiny smirk appeared on Phoenix's lips. "No, I _am_ Wright. Probability isn't involved."

Miles huffed an exasperated sigh and lightly punched the other man's shoulder. "Oh, shut up and go back to sleep. You've got blood all over your face."

Phoenix's only response was a light chuckle, and then he stilled. His eyes turned forward again to fix on a point directly above him, and that was the end of their conversation. Miles waited a few seconds, then rose to go get a tissue, lightly dabbing at the blood to clean him off; he didn't really want to look at that ghastly sight all day.

Miles spent most of that day lying in bed next to Phoenix, for there wasn't much else he could be doing. He'd brought a case file and a book with him, but he could only keep himself occupied with those for so long. The rest of the time was spent watching television, though he had it muted out of courtesy for his lover. Twice, a knock at the door announced a food cart, and while he was hesitant to open that door while Phoenix was resting, he told himself that all the other vampires would be resting as well, and the person pushing the cart would most certainly be human. Besides, he needed to eat.

As it grew late, he decided it was probably time to start getting ready. He gathered the necessary hygiene products and entered the bathroom to shave and shower. Then, it was time to don the outfit he'd been given to wear for that night's event, and as he pulled on each piece, he kept thinking about how much of a field day the media would have if _anyone_ saw him dressed like this and recognized him.

He had just finished applying the appropriate makeup when he heard Phoenix's voice again.

"God damn, you look sexy!"

Miles let the eyeliner pencil drop to the counter and turned around to glare slightly at the man now sitting on the edge of the bed, looking much more alert than he had that morning. Blue eyes raked over him, and he could see the hunger in them.

Miles was standing there in way too much leather for his taste: a sleeveless top with straps and belts down the front, tight pants with the same accessories, tall boots with a thick, half-inch heel, a choker ringed in metal spikes, and armbands from wrist to elbow with the same adornment. The look was complete with black eyeliner, black lipstick, and a white powder that made his face look a bit paler than it was. "Is the makeup really necessary?" he asked, trying for at least _one_ compromise.

Phoenix stood up, smirking at him as he came forward. "It goes with the look. Besides, you're worried about being recognized, aren't you? The makeup will make that harder to do."

Miles sighed, turning back to stare at himself in the mirror. "I look like I am attending a Halloween party or a performance by... what's that group called again...? Charles Manson?"

Phoenix snorted. "I think it's Marilyn Manson - not quite the same as the serial killer. Anyway, that's the look we're going for. Trust me, you won't stand out." As he spoke, Phoenix was busy going through the small bag he'd brought, bringing out his own outfit. He always wore black now, but these garments appeared to be a bit... 'chainy-er'... "But hey, just trust me, you look damn fine."

Miles frowned, the compliment doing little to sooth his mood. "So, is this how you would prefer I dress?" he asked with a sneer.

"Oh, don't be like that!" Phoenix stopped what he was doing and came to him, wrapping his arms around the prosecutor's waist and pulling him into a tight embrace from behind; Miles could feel that he was a bit aroused. "I like your fancy clothes and refined look just fine. I've been attracted to you all this time, haven't I? It's just... seeing you like this... it's kind of exciting, because it's like you're really letting loose and actually showing yourself off."

"It isn't by choice..." Miles grumbled, staring down at himself - _What is the point of all these straps!?_ Still, he had to admit... now that he was closer to Phoenix and trusted him, provoking this type of reaction from him at first glance was a bit satisfying. Maybe if he could just get passed how unrefined and strange he looked, this wouldn't be so bad for a one-time thing...

Phoenix pressed a kiss between the collar and the shoulder of his leather top. "Well, it's just for when you're at things like this, which might only be tonight. After that, I won't dress you ever again."

"Good..."

With a combination sigh and laugh, Phoenix released him and went to change. He wore a black, tight-fitting t-shirt, while his pants - covered in belts, straps, and chains - fit somewhat loosely. He was also wearing boots and a pair of fingerless gloves decorated with what looked like metal fangs.

When he was finished dressing, Miles looked him over. "I feel as though yours is less absurd," he observed, aware the words had come out as a jealous pout.

Phoenix snorted with laughter. "Miles, I'm a walking corpse with fangs. The clothing is just a formality at this point." He looked over at the clock on the nightstand, and then back to Miles. "Okay, we should get going, if you're ready. We stand around here much longer, I might end up ripping that stuff off you before it's served its purpose."

"I wouldn't complain..." Miles checked his reflection once more, sighed, and then went to join his lover at the door.

* * *

><p>They were among the first to arrive in the ballroom, which looked more appropriately decorated than it had the previous night. Drapes of black and red covered the long tables, each sporting a large candelabra and torches in sconces. Paintings and tapestries covered the walls, all looking dark but - admittedly - classy. At the front of the room was a raised platform, upon which stood a table curved into a semicircle, opening to the rest of the room. He assumed that was where the important attendants would be sitting: the Council, most likely.<p>

Phoenix chose a place near the dais and pulled out a chair for Miles, who gave him a strange look and then sat down. Immediately, Miles turned to watch other people walking in, noting that Phoenix had been correct: he most certain would not stand out. In fact, there were costumes much more elaborate than his. He even saw people he'd noticed the night before who had apparently dyed their hair and complete changed its style. It seemed some of them were pleased to have an excuse to dress like this.

"See, what'd I tell you?" Phoenix remarked, lightly squeezing his thigh beneath the tablecloth. "You fit right in."

Soon enough, people started coming in and heading up to the front table, and Miles narrowed his eyes when he saw their clothing. They were still dressed in mostly black and other dark colors, but their attire looked classy and stylish as well. It was formal, most sporting lace instead of leather. Miles turned to glare at Phoenix, opening his mouth to ask the question his lover quickly anticipated, resulting in him being cut off.

"They're the leaders, the Council," Phoenix explained, giving a wave of his hand to ward off Miles' indignation. "If you dressed like that, they'd think you were trying to make a statement, as would everyone else here. Seriously, I didn't think you'd be _this_ upset about it."

Miles grimaced, then sighed, shaking his head. "I... I apologize. I suppose there are much worse things that could have been expected of me." He was in a room full of vampires, after all. Dressing him in tight leather was probably the least of the cruelties they could dream up. He felt Phoenix's hand go instead to his back, rubbing it a bit.

"It's just for a few hours. This'll be over before you know it, and then we can go home and you can cuddle with your doily."

"Cravat."

"Whatever."

"You're an idiot."

"I know." Phoenix leaned over, placing a quick kiss on his cheek, undoubtedly tasting some of the powder; it didn't seem to bother him.

The hall steadily filled with people and grew louder with the buzz of conversation. It didn't take long before they were joined by others at their table, and Miles was relieved when it was a human woman who sat beside him. Her outfit left much less to the imagination than his; there were even men showing significantly more skin than he was. The more people he saw, the better he felt about the outfit Phoenix had given him, though he still envied the Council members.

A loud clinking sound drew everyone's attention to the head table, where a tawny-skinned vampire woman stood, tapping a knife against a wine glass. She was in the center place at the table, with an equal number of people on either side of her, bringing Miles to the conclusion that she was the one in charge. The din died down and soon the room was mostly quiet, save for rustling and creaking chairs.

"Welcome and thank you all for coming," the woman began, her powerful voice ringing out over the entire hall, clear and concise even with the hint of what Miles guessed was an Eastern European accent. "I know it was a bit of a road trip for many of you, but the journey will be well worth the trouble, let me assure you." She looked around, and then set down the knife she'd been holding. "For the benefit of our human guests, I am Chief Councilor Anaija, highest authority here in the Western United States and leader of this region's Humanists. We welcome you just as warmly, and know that you are something special, taking this step to lead your species into a new age of understanding and cooperation. We all must strive for this, and tonight, we will all learn how it will be possible and how we might rid ourselves of those who would have us be enemies for eternity!"

A round of polite applause circulated, and Miles joined in for the sake of not drawing attention to himself. When the clapping subsided, Councilwoman Anaija continued.

"While tonight is about the future of both of our species, we also wish for all to enjoy themselves, to socialize and form new friendships to strengthen the bonds between us all. We will have food and drinks for our human guests, as well as music. Now, I must make a request of my kind here tonight: do not feed out in the open. We may soon be exposed to the world, integrated into society, and thus we must begin practicing behaviors that will be socially acceptable. We are all accustomed to indulging freely amongst our own, but we may no longer be solely amongst our own in a very short period of time. If that is the case, most humans are not going to take kindly to our habits."

A murmur went through the gathered crowd, the irritation and indignation clear even if Miles couldn't pick out the words; Phoenix wasn't saying anything, just watching the woman speaking.

"Now, hold on." She raised a hand to quiet everyone. "I would not ask you to abstain if there was not another way. We plan to reveal ourselves soon, do we not? Therefore, we need a way to assure the human masses that they are not in danger. Councilor Mason will explain further."

Anaija sat down, and to her right, the man that had paid Miles and Phoenix a visit a week prior stood. In his hand, he was holding a glass bottle that resembled those that normally contained juice or cream soda. The substance inside was the color of fresh blood.

"A team of researchers and scientists in Germany has been working on this for many years," Mason announced, holding the bottle up higher for all to see. "Within the last few months, they have finally perfected it. This, ladies and gentleman, is synthetic human blood."

Another murmur went around the room, louder and expressing confusion, intrigue, and disbelief.

"This formula is the key that will open the door to the rest of the world for our kind. If served at a temperature of ninety-eight point six degrees, it has the taste and consistency of human blood, while providing the nutrients we need to keep ourselves healthy and satisfied. This substance is in the process of being mass-produced and shipped all over the world, and with this readily available for purchase, humans need no longer fear becoming victim to a hungry vampire."

The excited muttering got a little louder, and Mason had to raise his voice to be heard. "This will be served here tonight so that all of you can see for yourselves!" As he spoke, several people came out carrying trays of bottles, placing one in front of each attending vampire. Many popped theirs open and poured some into the wine glass at their place, while other looked ready to simply drink straight from the bottle: Phoenix was one of the latter.

"To a brighter tomorrow!" Chief Councilor Anaija called out, holding up her own filled wine glass in a toast. The sound of clinking glasses scattered throughout the room, and Miles watched as Phoenix leaned over to share a toast with the nearest vampire, a heavily bearded man who had looked to have been turned in his mid-forties. Everyone at the head table was seated now, and conversation had resumed. Several more people appeared in the hall, carrying various trays of food and drink to pass around to each of the tables.

Miles watched with morbid curiosity as Phoenix brought the bottle of blood-red liquid to his lips to drink. After he did so, he sat there for a moment, looking thoughtful. He then turned to look at Miles. "Tastes like shit," he pronounced with a wry grin before tipping the bottle up for another drink.

Miles cocked his head. "Really? I thought it was supposed to taste like human blood."

Phoenix set his bottle down. "Yeah, in the way tofu bacon tastes like real bacon." Miles wasn't experienced with that particular analogy, but he got the point.

"So... do you intend to keep drinking it?" Miles looked around briefly, noting that others seemed to still be drinking the substance, though no one looked particularly pleased.

Phoenix nodded. "Yep. It's the way of tomorrow, remember?" That wry grin was still present, but when Miles gave him another quizzical look, he sighed. "Hey, if drinking this stuff in public is what it's going to take to get us out of hiding, I'll drink it. As long as I get to come home to you, I'll be just fine." He now wore an adoring smile, which brought a light blush to Miles' cheeks and made him turn his face away. This only made Phoenix chuckle at how bashful his human lover still was.

Farther down the table, one of the servers was pouring tea from a steaming kettle into a mug set before one of the other guests. Phoenix noticed and leaned over to signal her. "Hey, got another tea-drinker down here," he said, pointing to Miles. She nodded and came around to do the same for him. Miles felt a bit relieved, as he'd thought he would have been forced to drink wine. Perhaps it would have helped him relax a little, but he really did not wish to let his guard down here. Besides, the last time he'd drank, it had apparently made him irresistible, a quality he did not wish to possess in a room full of vampires drinking unsatisfactory blood substitute.

Food was soon brought around, though it was mostly what one would call 'refreshments,' not adequate for an actual meal. Miles accepted some cut vegetables, but nothing else, and sat munching while scanning the room. He soon became aware of the music that had begun to play, and nearby, he noticed a display screen on the wall that apparently displayed the information about the song currently playing.

_"Title: "Deadlight"_  
><em>Artist: Draconian<em>  
><em>Album: A Rose for the Apocalypse (2011)"<em>

_Well, at least the record title has real words in it..._ What he was hearing was the sound of an electric guitar that sounded... dead, accompanied by vocals that sounded as though they could only come from the throat of some kind of angry demon. Then, this was joined by a rather pleasant female voice and haunting melody. The contrast created a discord within his brain and he had to stop listening to it, turning instead to watch Phoenix nurse his drink. "Is that getting any better?" he asked, unable to stop himself from smirking a little.

"Nope," Phoenix replied after another drink. "It's also losing heat, so that's awesome." The former attorney looked over at him. "How's your tea?"

"Passable," Miles replied, plucking up a baby carrot to nibble on.

Just then, a young serving girl approached them, giving a slight curtsy to Phoenix. "Master Wright, the Council wishes to speak with you," she said in a prim English accent. Apparently, Phoenix found this form of address just as strange as Miles did, for he hesitated before answering her.

"Uh... All right. Should I bring Miles?"

"No, sir," the girl answered. "They did not mention your companion. Only you."

Phoenix gave this some thought, then nodded and waved the girl away. He turned to Miles, who was giving him a worried look. "This probably won't take long. A few people have gone up there already and it's only taken a few minutes. Just sit tight and I'll be right back."

Miles was dubious, but reluctantly agreed with a nod, watching as Phoenix stood and left the table. Miles brought his mug to his lips, sipping lightly as he kept his gaze fixed on his lover, not wanting to lose sight of him. He felt more tense and anxious with every step Phoenix put between them, and with his free hand, he was gripping the edge of the table hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

"You okay?" The scantly clad woman beside him was looking at him with mild concern. The seat beside her had become vacant as well, but she didn't seem bothered by it.

Miles looked over at her, forcing his face into the stoic mask he usually wore in public. "I am quite all right, but I appreciate your concern, miss."

She giggled at him. "Ooh, a fancy British gentleman, huh? Don't you guys usually say 'm'lady' instead?"

Over the years, Miles had grown used to people mocking his polite, formal manner of speaking, so he merely quirked a silver eyebrow at her and looked away to focus on Phoenix once more.

A few minutes later, Phoenix turned around to come back to the table, the chains on his pants jingling with each step he took. He slid back into his chair and immediately leaned over to kiss Miles full on the lips. "See. No big deal."

Miles let out a slow breath, trying to stop his racing heart. "Easy for you to say... What did they want?"

"Councilor Mason just wanted to introduce me to everyone, since I'm supposed to be one of the new spokesmen." Phoenix picked up his bottle and brought it to his lips as he continued. "They just asked me a few questions. Nothing ma-"

"Wait!" Miles nearly jumped out of his seat to grab the bottle in time, placing his fingers over the opening to prevent it from touching Phoenix's lips.

The former attorney paused, then turned to stare at him. "Uh... Something wrong?"

"Look at it." Miles took the bottle away and held it up so the light from the nearby torch glinted off the substance inside. "It doesn't look right..."

Phoenix continued to stare at him as if he was crazy for a few seconds, then that expression began to melt away into thoughtful concentration as he looked at the bottle. "Actually, yeah... You're right. Something's... off about it."

The two examined the bottle for a few seconds, and it soon came to Miles. "There are... flecks of something in it, something that is catching the light. It's... sparkling... Was it doing that before?"

Phoenix frowned. "Er... No, I don't think so. It just looked like regular blood."

From somewhere in the back of the room, a woman shrieked in abject horror.


	7. Chapter 7

(**A/N: **By the way, if you'd like to know what I listen to in order to get in the mood for this AU, just look up that artist/song mentioned in the pervious chapter. ^_^)

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Seven**

Like everyone else in the hall, Miles turned immediately, scanning the scene to try and figure out from where the scream had come. He felt Phoenix grab his arm protectively, probably ready to throw him out of the way if anything happened.

It took only a brief moment of searching to find what was wrong.

A man was standing near one of the back tables - a vampire - and the woman who had apparently screamed was with him, hands on his shoulders as she stared at him. His face appeared to be burning.

Everyone stared in shock and confusion as the man's skin began to sear and blacken in places, and he soon started howling in agony and retching. He doubled over, blood red vomit erupting from his wide-open mouth. Miles gawked at the confusing and disturbing sight as the woman cried and shouted for someone to help the man, but no one really knew what what to do.

Then, the shouts of terror began to come from other parts of the room. Miles' heart leaped into his throat as he realized the same thing was happening to others, as if they were frying from the inside. Each gave into vomiting up blood, as if they had been poisoned, and each soon collapsed to the floor as people around them panicked. Fearing the worst, Miles turned to look at Phoenix, but so far he looked normal, albeit just as stunned.

Then, all Hell broke loose.

Miles wasn't entire sure what had happened, but he was lying on the floor. People everywhere were screaming, and from what he could see, running. The other sounds he heard were those of battle, no longer just the shrieks of those succumbing to that strange affliction and their friends. No, these were the wails of those running, fighting for their lives, and their death rattles.

He saw people sail overhead, vampires in the midst of fast-paced combat, but that soon stopped. He saw the woman he had been sitting beside tackled to the ground. He watched - petrified - as the man atop her bit down on her throat and tore it away. He watched as the vampire began drinking from the gaping wound, the woman's eyes bulging and mouth wide as she drowned in her own blood.

Phoenix... Where was Phoenix!? He had to find-

"Phoenix!" Overtaken by panic and unable to think, Miles began scrambling to get off the floor and run toward his lover, whom he had spotted in the hall leading toward the elevator and stairs. He was in a fight with another vampire, and he did not appear to be faring well. Miles managed to get to his feet and started running, sliding on fresh blood and gore mixed with ash. His vision tunneled on Phoenix. He had to reach him! He had to-

Something hit his chest hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. He was thrown backward, landing on a nearby table. Plates and glasses scattered, most falling to the floor and shattering. Hands pinned his shoulders down and fangs loomed above him, poised, ready to strike, glistening with saliva and blood.

Miles couldn't scream. He couldn't even breathe, and his heart had stopped, as if it already knew he was about to die and had decided to check out early. He was about to meet the same fate as that woman, an image that would be burned into his memory even on into the afterlife.

"Stop!"

On the contrary, his heart suddenly started pounding against his ribs in a bid to flee. He gasped for air, eyes darting about to search for the one that had spoken. The monster leaning over him growled in irritation and looked to the side.

It was there they both saw Councilor Mason, his fancy Gothic clothing drenched in blood. "Leave that one alive. There are people around here that know his face. We want people to see what we do to this one."

The man that had been about to kill him glared momentarily at the councilor, then turned his attention back on Miles. Wild, merciless green eyes stared down at him, clearly enjoying his fear. Miles, however, was looking toward the hallway, watching Phoenix struggle, desperate to reach him, to call out to him.

"That your master, little boy?" growled his attacker, letting out a harsh laugh. "Go on then. Run along! Go get him! See how long you last!" With that, Miles was dragged off of the table and practically thrown toward the hallway. He had no idea why he'd been released or how far he'd get, but the prosecutor stumbled, caught himself, and started sprinting through the carnage. As he ran, he reached down to snatch something out of his left boot, the ability to conceal it having been his only positive thought about the outfit he wore.

The fight had taken Phoenix and the other man into the elevator, and Phoenix was pinned. From the looks of it, his opponent was attempting to tear his head off, something Miles was certain would be fatal even to a vampire. The doors of the elevator were beginning to close, but Miles had made it in time. Praying to whatever might be out there watching, he lunged, knowing he had only one chance to save his lover and himself. Gripping the weapon in both hands, he took aim slightly to the left of the vampire's spine, and with a savage yell, he drove it downward with all of his might.

He felt the point make contact, felt it punch through skin, muscle, and whatever else stood in its path. Blood splattered his hands and face, and what sounded to him like the anguished roar of a dying beast filled the tiny metal box. The form before him began to disintegrate, ash raining down over Phoenix until it collapsed in a huge pile along with the outfit it had been wearing.

Miles stood there, frozen with his bloody spear held in both hands for a few heartbeats, then dropped to his knees, sweeping a large portion of the ash away with an arm. "Phoenix..." he gasped, breathing so quickly he was on the verge of hyperventilating. "Oh god... What's... what's h-happening...?" He was far too terrified by everything else going on around them to care that he was currently closed in an elevator, even as a dismembered arm rode down with them.

Phoenix looked to be having trouble getting his bearings, but he began to struggle up off the floor. As he did so, he took a hold of Miles arm and swung him around to put himself between the elevator doors and the prosecutor. "Keep your head down," he ordered in a rasping growl, clearly still in fight mode.

Miles held onto Phoenix's shirt, unable to stop shaking. "Y-you're hurt! You can't-"

"Got a better idea?!"

Just then, the elevator stopped and they heard a merry little ding before the doors opened to instantly assault them with the screams of the frightful and dying. People had fled down the stairs and vampires had pursued, and while some were being slaughtered, others appeared as though they were being herded into the hallway of the underground motel. For a split second, Phoenix appeared to be assessing the situation and their options, then he moved into a crouched position. "Hold on, and don't fucking let go for anything!" he commanded. Miles was not about to question this or Phoenix's uncharacteristic rage, simply wrapping his arms around the vampire's neck from behind, putting his head down, and holding on for dear life.

In a blink, they were out of the elevator and flying down the hallway, speeding right past panicked people fleeing as fast as their legs would carry them. Miles tightened his grip and buried his face against Phoenix's shoulder, certain he would be sick if he continued to watch their movement. Then, it all stopped suddenly, and he had no idea how the momentum didn't bull Phoenix right over.

A quick glance around told him they were in their room. Phoenix grabbed one of his arms and twisted out of his hold. "Stay here. No matter what you hear, do not leave this room! Do you understand me?"

Miles looked at him fearfully, knowing exactly what this meant. "Y-you can't go back out th-" He gasped as Phoenix grabbed his shoulders and threw him backward with enough force to send him across the room and onto the bed.

"STAY HERE!"

By the time the stars cleared from his vision, Phoenix was gone and the door was shut. Miles didn't even try to get up, feeling weak and overwhelmed. He was trying to put the horrid flashes of picture and sound going through his head into some sort of order and context, but he couldn't make sense of it all. Bloody chaos: that was all this was to him. Now, everything was suddenly silent, a stark contrast that should have given his brain time to catch up. It wasn't really working...

He had no idea for how long he lay there, but the silence soon became too much and he staggered to his feet. He looked around helplessly, not knowing what to do or for how long he was supposed to wait here. He felt he needed to know what was going on outside this room, but he didn't want to know. All he could tell was that Phoenix was still alive. He couldn't exactly explain _how_ he knew that, but he did. It was that... odd sense he had of the vampire whose blood he was sometimes given, and while he had no idea what that sensation was, he dreaded losing it.

Becoming aware again that his hands and face were flecked with drying blood, he made his way over to the bathroom sink and began to wash, his movements slow and mechanical. He felt almost as if he wasn't entirely driving his own actions at the moment, his mind trying to shut out the reality of what was happening. He scrubbed until he was certain every last bit of the stuff was gone, removing the makeup as a consequence: he didn't care. He didn't exactly have a mind to change, though. Someone could burst through that door at any moment, and if he had to die tonight, he would prefer to die clothed, even if it was in this ridiculous getup.

Far to anxious to sit still, he took to pacing, just waiting for something, _anything_ to happen. Surely, hiding in here wasn't going to save him for long. They would be able to smell him. Of that, he had no doubt. He wanted to hope that the battle had turned around upstairs and that Phoenix would soon return and tell him they could safely leave, but he was not so naive. He was starting to make some sense of his jumbled thoughts, and he recalled that the battle had become nothing but a slaughter. That would not have happened had they any chance left.

So then, why was he still being left alone? Surely, they would send people out to find anyone who might be hiding. Or perhaps they knew that he couldn't hide forever and would eventually come out to check if it was safe or try and escape. Although, Phoenix was still alive... Did that bode well, or were they going to try and lure him out with the use of his *Master*?

Master... He suddenly recalled being pinned to the table, fearing he was literally about to die, and then... Then what? Mason... Yes, Councilor Mason had saved him... No, no that wasn't right. He'd told the one attacking him to 'leave him alive.' What did that mean? Were they sparing some people? Perhaps they meant for some to escape and spread the fear. He could only assume this attack was the doing of the Imperialists having infiltrated the Humanist convention. If he was correct, that meant even some of the Council was in on it... Mason included...

This had all been a trap, and it had worked.

He stopped pacing and grabbed the door handle tightly, gritting his teeth in frustration. He needed to know what was happening! He couldn't just hide here and wait for them to come kill him! He had to find Phoenix and... and figure something out! With that decision made, he took in a deep breath to try and brace himself for what could be on the other side of the door, and then flung it open.

The hallway beyond was empty, but he could hear distant voices. He peered around, able to see people back down by the entrance. What he was hearing sounded like frightened shouting and pleading, accompanied by a loud banging sound. Some of the figures appeared to be sitting against the wall with their heads covered, as if that would somehow protect them. His assessment led him to believe these were humans, but he couldn't be sure unless he approached.

Seeing no other way to get a feel for the situation, he stepped out of Room 22 and moved down the hall, treading carefully around splatters that made all the crime scenes he had investigated look like child's play. He almost felt he should be more afraid, too afraid to actually make this approach, but he was actually starting to go numb, as if his mind simply refused to comprehend any more of the horror surrounding him.

The gathered people were indeed humans, all absolutely terrified. Most were curled up and weeping, one muttering hysterically to herself, and others just sitting or standing rigid, staring straight ahead into nothingness. He also discovered the source of the yelling and banging. Metal bars had somehow been secured to block the hallway from the entrance lobby where the stairs and elevator were located, and a man was pounding on them, screaming for help and to be let out. Miles knew his efforts were futile, but he supposed he couldn't blame the man for his desperation. This wasn't exactly a situation in which people could generally think clearly; he was only managing somewhat because he had some practice operating under pressure, and the aforementioned numbness.

Just then, someone approached the bars from the other side and the sound of jangling keys caught most people's attention. The man at the bars started banging louder and more frantically, and soon they swung open.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so-" His words were cut off with a horrible choking sound as the familiar Hispanic woman reached into his mouth with a lightning quick motion and ripped out his tongue. He stood there with eyes blown wide and blood pouring from his gaping mouth. Some of the women nearby screamed, while other people gasped, but Catarina wasn't done. Next, she casually took a hold of each of the man's arms, tearing them clean off at the shoulder with what looked like little effort. He fell to the ground screaming, but at the rate he was losing blood, the sound soon petered out and he lost consciousness... or perhaps died of the shock.

Catarina stood there, drenched in a new layer of warm blood and looked around at the gathered people. "Now, does anyone else wish to cause a scene? No? Good. I thank you all for being so courteous. Do keep it that way." With that, she slammed the barred door shut again, simply leaving the desecrated body where it lay - a reminder, no doubt.

A few people had started vomiting while others just turned their faces away and wailed in mortal terror. Miles just stared at the gruesome sight, not really comprehending it the way he should have, and then turned to peer around. He didn't see Phoenix anywhere, but he could still feel his presence nearby.

He noted that some of the people looked calmer than others. Next to the rocking, muttering woman was another who - while she looked frightened - was more focused on trying to comfort her friend, speaking to her in Italian. Deciding to give it a try, Miles approached the pair and crouched down.

"...Will she be all right?" he asked, figuring it was best to open with polite concern instead of coldly asking his question as he wanted to do.

The Italian woman looked up, wiping at her eyes while she struggled to hold back her tears. "Her... Master was killed," she explained. "They had been bonded for five hundred years. I fear her mind is gone."

Miles frowned slightly in confusion. "Five hundred years? How is that... even possible...?" He looked again at the mumbling woman; she looked human enough...

The composed one briefly looked surprised, and then realization came over her. "O-oh, you... must be new to all of this. The bond... it keeps a human from aging, as long as they drink the blood regularly. But... if your Master dies... this is what can to happen..." She looked back down at her friend miserably, helpless to draw her back to awareness. "M-my Mistress is... is still alive, but... but I'm so afraid they will kill her soon." Upon saying this, the tears started to slip free.

"So, there are other vampires still alive, those other than our captors?" He had never been good at providing comfort, and he was certainly in no mood to try. "Do you know where they are?"

She looked up at him, studying him for a few seconds. She probably thought him insane himself, as his face was showing no emotion. "They... are down below, o-on the bottom level. I... I want to go check on my Mistress, but... there are guards down there, and..."

When she had mentioned the lower level, she'd glanced at a nearby door that did not appear to be barred or locked. It was for that door Miles was now headed, not sticking around to hear why that woman had opted not to descend. He had to find Phoenix. He wasn't going to wait around up here to be chosen for the next meal, or whatever the purpose of keeping them contained might be. He pulled open the door and was met with a poorly-lit staircase, which he began to descend.

When he reached the ground, he found himself in what appeared to be some osort of maintenance storage room. Crates, buckets, barrels, and random equipment was scattered about everywhere in no particular order, and the room was barely lit. The sound of a woman's fearful whimpering reached him, and he looked over to see a vampire in the midst of feeding from a clearly unwilling victim.

Fear was starting to return to him as he scanned the storeroom, trying to discern where Phoenix could be. At the far end of the room, he spotted a row of forms on the ground and decided to investigate. He began walking, eyes straight ahead, shoulders back, and pace steady, as if he belonged there. He didn't want to know if anyone noticed him, but if they did, he didn't want to provoke them to chase by running.

What he found were several shadowed people, all apparently chained up. He looked to each of them, and his heart leaped into his throat when he spotted Phoenix. No longer able to stop himself, Miles sprinted the rest of the distance and dropped to his knees, sliding to a stop beside his lover. "Phoenix...!" he whispered in panic, leaning over the man who appeared to be barely conscious. Now that he was close by, he noted that the chains appeared to be made of silver, and they were anchored heavily to the concrete floor. "Phoenix, can you hear me?"

"...told you to stay in the room..." Phoenix's voice was hoarse and he barely had the energy to move his lips.

"Y-you expected me to just hide and wait to die?" Miles could feel tears burning behind his eyes at seeing Phoenix like this, at realizing they were both utterly helpless. In an attempt to do _something,_ he grabbed one of the chains and started trying to work it loose. He couldn't manage it, and when he let go and the metal fell back against Phoenix's arm, it made an unsettling sizzling noise as Phoenix hissed in pain. "Y-you... can't break them?" he asked, feeling dumb for even suggesting such a thing with how weak Phoenix looked.

"...silver..." the former attorney muttered. "...sapping all my strength... can't..."

Miles swallowed back the rising lump in his throat, looking around as if he would spot something that could help him. He had to think of something. He was Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth! His mind was his greatest weapon, and this was a pretty poor time for it to fail him.

In the end, all he could think of was how terrible Phoenix looked. He'd been hurt during the fighting and then bound with silver. Miles couldn't remove the chains, but maybe he could help his lover recover just a bit. He moved his arm to place his wrist near Phoenix's mouth. He'd been told it was more difficult to feed from the vessels there, but in Phoenix's current position, doing it any other way would be very awkward. "Here. You... need to heal up a bit."

Phoenix's gaze was unfocused and his eyelids were drooping, but he was looking at Miles quizzically. "...won't help me get out of this..."

"I know, but... but it should help the wounds from the fighting heal." Miles kept his arm steady, trying to set his face in a determined expression. He knew Phoenix was concerned for him, but he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer. His lover realized this, and with a resigned look, parted his lips and extended his fangs. Miles flinched when he was bitten, but he managed to hold back any sound. He sat rigid, doing his best to control his breathing in this dark, musty room where at any point he could be snatched up by one of the monsters lurking between him and the exit. He kept his gaze locked with Phoenix's, realizing he'd never actually watched his lover feed from him before. It was... an odd sight, but he was so used to the idea after six months of allowing it that it didn't really bother him as much as it might have otherwise.

The sound of approaching footsteps made Miles tense up severely, and a familiar voice reached his ears. "Well, isn't this sweet..."

Phoenix withdrew his fangs, though he did not retract them; the sight of them coated in his blood did end up making Miles' avert his gaze. "Mason... You backstabbing son of a bitch... When I get out of this..." Phoenix still sounded exhausted and hoarse, but a little stronger and able to put an angry growl behind his words.

Councilor Mason laughed. "You'll do what? You're just a baby, after all. Almost makes me feel guilty for all of this... Almost." He came closer, and before Miles could move away, took a handful of the prosecutor's hair and forced him to tilt his head back. Miles heard a vicious snarl from his lover, but nothing could be done. "Brave for a rich little paper-pusher who prances around in frills and a pink suit."

Miles wasn't sure where he found his courage. Perhaps it was being near Phoenix, coupled with the wish to keep some dignity before he died. No matter the cause, Councilman Mason was met with the full force of Prosecutor Edgeworth's glare. "It's called fashion, you uncultured swine, and I've had more dangerous men than you after my blood. It always ends the same way. Your case will be no different." He could feel his hair straining at the roots, but he absolutely _refused_ to let the pain show on his face. He wasn't giving this monster the satisfaction.

Mason sneered down at him. "I doubt that," he stated with cool confidence before releasing his grip. Miles shifted away from him and closer to Phoenix, taking up something of a protective pose and continuing to glare up at their captor. "You are both going to die very, very soon, and you, Mr. Edgeworth, are going to be a part of history: one of the humans we use to show the world just what we are and what we can do."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Phoenix demanded.

Mason smirked, clasping his hands behind his back. "Have you ever heard the term 'snuff', Mr. Wright?"

Miles felt his heart plunge into his stomach and Phoenix flinched beside him.

"We as vampires aren't the only ones who take pleasure in the suffering of humans. There are humans who enjoy it just as much, and they have their little secluded corners in cyberspace to indulge that fetish. Well, we have decided that those people will be the first to see what we are and what we can really do, what kind of suffering can _really_ be inflicted on mankind. Inevitably, word will spread and the videos will start to circulate. People will debate on whether or not any of it is real and vehemently condemn anyone who would watch such 'filth.' Then, they'll go home and search up more of the recordings, which we will be oh so happy to provide them. They will watch with fascination as we slaughter their own kind one by one: politicians, celebrities, you name it. The sedated masses will never know they've been conquered until it is too late, despite watching it happen."

Miles and Phoenix both stared openly at the villain standing before them, and it was Miles who found his voice first. "...You're insane..." was what came out, because it was all that was going through his head after hearing this plan. "If you believe this is actually going to work, you are completely mad."

Mason's smirk grew and was joined by a cruel laugh. "Think what you will, human, but we will see just how many people enjoy watching you die. Oh, and don't expect it to be quick, either. That's no fun. You're going to scream and cry and beg before we finally put you down, and it'll all be recorded for your fellow man to watch at his leisure." With that promise, Mason turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the other two men to process the magnitude of what they had just been told.

Slowly, Miles turned his gaze back to Phoenix, who was staring back at him with a look of fear that the prosecutor had not seen in him even once since his change. It made his heart skip a beat, and he felt his hopes fading. If Phoenix - an immortal creature with superhuman strength and speed - was afraid, what business did he have trying to be brave or daring to hope for their survival? He swallowed hard, fighting to keep down the panic. "Phoenix, I... I'm going to... find a way out of this for both of us..." He was more trying to convince himself, and according to the look on Phoenix's face, it was obvious.

"If you're going to do that, you can't stay down here," Phoenix told him. "Please, take the room key from my pocket and go back upstairs before that guard decides he's still hungry."

Miles turned to peer over his shoulder for a brief instant, then looked back down. "Phoenix... I-if... If I don't see you again..."

"Miles, don't. I can't think about-"

"J-just listen!" Despite his struggle to keep them in, hot tears were starting to leak from the corners of Miles' eyes, and the burning in his throat was choking his words. "If I don't see you again, I... I need you to know that... I..." He swallowed hard and dropped his head, grasping for the last of his courage. "...I love you..."

A silence fell between them, and Miles was having difficulty controlling his breathing. He was clutching his own left arm so tightly he could feel the fingers of that hand starting to go numb. He stared hard at the floor, at the patterns in the thick layer of dust and grime.

"Miles... Look at me."

Drawing in a trembling breath, Miles lifted his chin and forced himself to meet those stunningly beautiful blue eyes. He was instantly transfixed by them, but he knew it was not hypnosis.

"We've found our way out of desperate situations before. We can do it again. I... I won't give up if you won't. Still... regardless of what happens, I love you, too. I've loved you for years, Miles, longer than you'd probably care to know." Blood was trickling from Phoenix's eyes, and since it could not be morning yet, Miles knew those were bloody teardrops.

Despite the blood, Miles leaned down and kissed Phoenix, adding his own tears to the mix. "It has taken too much time and too much effort for us to come together only to be torn apart by these savages. I won't let it happen."

"Then go, and be safe."

"There is nowhere safe, but I will try." One more kiss, and then Miles fished out the card key and stood, forcing himself to walk away and leave his lover alone,chained in this desolate place. He reached up to wipe away his tears and crammed the fear and sorrow deep down inside, replacing it with a stone mask of resolution.

Perhaps they were both destined to die here, but it would not be without a fight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Eight**

Miles stepped into the vacant room and let the heavy door swing shut of its own accord, sliding the card key back into his pocket and breathing a sigh. The walk back had been surprisingly difficult, as every step he took away from Phoenix made him feel more and more hopeless. His logic was at odds with his emotion, as was often the case with reason-minded people, but this situation was making it even harder to avoid acting on blind instinct.

So far, he had only formulated one plan of escape, and it was honestly much too obvious to possibly work. Nevertheless, he moved to the kitchen counter where his phone still lay and unlocked it. Though he had told himself this was futile, he still felt the weight of disappointment when he saw that he had no signal, nor was he able to detect any WiFi or satellite connections. The Imperialists would have been fools had they not planned a way to scramble such attempts to contact the outside world, really, but the prosecutor would have been a fool himself not to at least check the option.

The device had become useless, so Miles put it back down and turned away from it, staring around the room at a loss for what to do. The fatigue was really starting to catch up with him at such a late hour and after such a trying ordeal. His brain needed sleep, but whether he could or should sleep were different matters entirely. The more he attempted to reason out what the best course of action might be, the more scattered and disconnected his thoughts became. In the end, he moved to the bed to lie down for a while, resigning himself to just a few hours of rest.

He closed his eyes, somewhat expecting that his wildly racing thoughts would keep him awake no matter how tired he was - a common problem he had - but when he reopened them, the alarm clock on the nightstand told him it was ten in the morning. He didn't recall drifting off or even having a dream, nor did he know what had awakened him, but he quickly sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

It was daytime, which meant all of the vampires would be resting, even their captors. If there was a way out, daylight would be the best ally they had, but first Miles desperately needed to take some time to freshen up. It may have seemed trivial to some, but he always found he could focus and think much more clearly when he didn't feel disgusting. Besides, it was an opportunity to finally change without the constant worry of someone invading his privacy.

Miles filled the coffee maker with water and then put a teabag in the pot, a quick way to brew tea in lieu of the proper equipment. He turned the machine on and then went into the bathroom to strip off the tight leather outfit stained with blood and sweat, feeling a rush of relief once he stood under the spray of a hot shower. He decided to take his time washing and grooming, and by the time he was dressed and his hair was combed, he felt mostly awake. He stood for a few moments in front of the mirror, peering at himself in his court suit and letting the familiar sight draw his confidence out of hiding.

He was High Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, seeker of truth and bane of the corrupt! He _would not_ die here, helpless and cowering like a frightened child!

After this brief self-affirmation ritual, he exited the bathroom and poured himself tea, the last thing he needed to get himself as ready as he possibly could be in his current situation. A meal would have been helpful, but he seriously doubted plans had been made to feed the captives during what little time they had left. He downed two mugs then faced the door. He still had absolutely no idea what he could possibly do to improve his and Phoenix's chances of survival, but his hope was that an opportunity would present itself; he just needed to ensure he was alert and ready to take advantage when and if it did.

Well, he wasn't going to find a way out while cooped up in this room, so he left it, striding down the hallway toward the people still gathered, pulling his shroud of confident self-assurance tightly around himself. Several of them looked up as he approached, giving him strange glances. He was aware how delusional - or perhaps even insane - he looked, but he didn't care. Quailing in Death's shadow was not going to help him escape it, and maybe if he could get some of these people to understand that, a group effort could bring them a better chance of success.

He stepped around the partially-dismembered corpse that still lay on a mat of dried blood near the bars and came to stand at the center of the group, drawing the eyes of everyone save the nearly catatonic woman. "Why is it none of you have returned to your rooms?" he asked, astonished at how clear and controlled his voice came out, as he'd not spoken since his emotional departure from Phoenix's side. He decided to pretend he was standing in court where he always felt most confident, and not even the bewildered stares he was getting managed to shake that steadiness.

A few people glanced around at one another, and he assumed they were trying to decide whether or not to even acknowledge this lunatic who had just strutted out here in a fancy suit like he owned the place. At last, it was the Italian woman he'd spoken with the previous night that took the initiative. "None of us have our room keys, and we cannot risk going down below to retrieve them."

"Why not?" Miles prompted, folding his arms across his chest and absently tapping an index finger against his bicep.

The woman looked at him incredulously. "Surely those being held prisoner are being guarded! You went down there last night; were there not Imperialists about?"

Miles gave her a curt nod. "There were indeed, and that was before sunrise. However, here I stand, unharmed."

An older-looking man off to his left laughed derisively. "Arrogant, aren't you, kid? Just 'cause you walked in and out of there once don't make you or anyone else here untouchable. It was a fluke!"

Miles turned his upper body slightly to fix the speaker with a cool gaze. "Very astute, sir, but might I inquire as to what exactly you believe will happen to us should we merely sit here idly and wait?" His words had the desired effect, causing the man's eyes to widen a little and his mouth to stay shut. in addition, everyone else was watching him with a little more interest and a little less condescension. He straightened up and swept his gaze over the gathered group, meeting the eyes of each individual before he spoke. "We are all on death row, and given the secretive nature of this entire affair, it is likely that no one is coming to rescue us. Therefore, I pose this question to each of you: what do any of us have to lose by fighting back?"

A heavy silence fell over the group for several long seconds during which Miles only waited for the sake of making a point. However, one young man who probably had not even reached the age of twenty did eventually speak up. "How do you know they're going to kill all of us? I mean... they could've easily already done it, right? They're keeping us alive for a reason." A few people murmured tentative agreement, but they fell silent when Miles spoke.

"I cannot say for certain their specific intentions for each of you, but I was told quite plainly what they intend to do to me. Their plan is to torture and eventually kill me while filming the event, a recording which they will make available for the world to see. I am, of course, not the only person they will do this to; their scheme is - in fact - quite grandiose. The logical conclusion is that many of you face the same fate, and those who do not are most likely here as a convenient food source. If you believe these savages intend to release any of us, you are hopelessly naive."

Another silence followed, but this time it went unbroken. The atmosphere of hopeless dread was almost tangible, but Miles now knew they would take him seriously.

"Each of you accompanied a vampire here Friday night, a vampire you apparently trust. Regardless of the nature of that relationship, it has made you feel weak and insignificant by comparison. The same is true for myself. We have fallen into the trap of considering ourselves to be 'merely' human, as they instinctively view us. However, I ask each of you to remember yourselves, remember the spirit and iron will that has allowed our species to survive against all odds for tens of thousands of years. Yes, the odds are heavily stacked against us and we may all die here, but what chance do we have of beating those odds if we sit around wallowing in terror and despair?"

All eyes were fixed on him by this point, looking to the one person who had found the courage to take charge. He knew now that many of these people were likely several centuries old, but they were now being drawn out of their meek surrender by the strength of this one twenty-eight-year-old who had only become aware of this hidden world six months prior.

"Those of you who intend to survive this, find your courage and do so posthaste, for the remainder of this day could very well be the only chance we have."

As he looked to each of the gathered people, many of them began to stand up. Miles was glad to see that his words had reached them, that he would not be alone in his attempt at resistance. Not all decided to pick themselves up off the floor, but he disregarded them. If they wished to sit and wait for Death to claim them, they were free to do so. Miles met the gaze of each man and woman who had stood and spoke to them all. "I arrived here with a weapon," he informed them. "It was given to me by my companion as a means of self-defense against his kind. Unfortunately, it is now out of my reach, but I wonder if I was not the only one who arrived armed."

There was a pause, and then three people stepped forward: two women and a man. None of them had quite found their voices yet, but Miles understood their signal and nodded. "I assume your weapons are currently back in your rooms. In that case, each of you will need to retrieve your card key. If your companion is a Humanist held captive as mine is, you will need to venture below and locate them. Do this one at a time, and while you are down there, make no sudden sounds or movements. You know that I cannot guarantee your survival, but you are also aware of what is at stake."

None of the three looked particularly thrilled, but each nodded. "I'll go first," one of the women volunteered, her voice shaking but her expression one of determination.

"Very well. I wish each of you luck." Miles watched the three of them move off toward the door that led into the sub-basement, then turned to look at those who remained: five people, to be exact. "I need scouts." They all gave him a strange look. "As in, those who can investigate the area available to us in search of anything useful, be it impromptu weapons or even potential escape routes. Two of you will be sufficient, one to go in either direction down this hallway. Any more and we are more likely to attract attention."

The older man who had challenged him briefly stepped forward. "I was once a prospector. I'd like to think I'm observant."

The next to step forward was a woman who Miles was sure could physically overpower him without too much effort. She had been one of the few that hadn't lost their composure at the sight of that man's gruesome death the night before. "Ex-military. I spent a total of eight years in the Middle East. If we've got makeshift weapons here, I'll find them."

Miles nodded. "Good. If you believe yourselves capable, then go. Be cautious but thorough, and report back anything you find. I don't suggest attempting to take any potential escape routes alone, as they could very well be guarded."

When he finished speaking, the two designated as scouts parted to head in opposite directions. The three people that were left standing watched him, wondering if he had anymore assignments to hand out. "We must wait for the time being," he informed them. "Once we have a better handle on our situation and the tools at our disposal, we can begin formulating a plan." Upon hearing this, two of the remaining people went to sit down, and the one that did not was the Italian woman. Instead, she approached him.

"I am impressed," she told him, combing her fingers through thick black curls as she spoke. "For one so young, you show great strength."

Miles bowed his head in a graceful acceptance of the compliment. "I have come to realize that it is easier to find the strength to fight when you know what it is you are fighting for and it is important enough. This is not the first time I had to realize that weakness on my part would mean death."

The woman studied him through eyes that had surely seen many more years than her appearance would suggest. "Ah, but I can see that it is not only yourself for whom you fight, as evidenced by your heedless rush to get downstairs last night. Tell me... what did you find down there?"

Miles let his arms drop to his sides. "A storeroom that is being used as a prison. There are several vampires, including my companion, who are being held with silver chains. I attempted to remove them, but I was unable."

She gave a slow nod. "And... by any chance... did you happen to see Chief Councilor Anaija among the captives?" The hopeful look in her eyes told Miles that this was the identity of the Mistress she had mentioned during their first conversation.

He shook his head. "I apologize, but I did not investigate thoroughly. I only looked closely enough to recognize my companion."

She cocked her head, a curious expression coming over her. "I find it strange that you do not refer to this man as your Master."

Miles folded his arms again and shut his eyes, tilting his chin down slightly. "Phoenix Wright is my friend and... recently... he has... become my lover, but he does not claim to _own_ me and I do not think of myself as his possession. Thus, I consider the term 'Master' inappropriate when describing his relation to me."

"Hmm..." she hummed contemplatively, taking a pause before speaking. "So, then, I presume you do not intend to bond with him?"

Miles opened his eyes to meet her gaze. "I know very little about this 'bond' I keep hearing mentioned. Until that changes, I can make no decisions about that." He hesitated then, inwardly debating whether or not to ask. There was still time to kill, so he chose to go for it. "If I might be so bold, would you perhaps care to enlighten me?"

She smiled at him and then motioned to a nearby wall. "Come sit, if you are not too concerned about dirtying your suit," she invited.

He felt a wry half-smirk curve his lips. "I... expect this suit will be drenched in _somebody's_ blood before the day is done. I can't be too concerned with a little dirt." He walked with her and the two of them sat down to face one another, both folding their legs before themselves.

"The bond can be simple or complex, depending on how much you wish to think about it," she began, pushing her unkempt hair behind her shoulders. "It is a bond of blood, but in truth, it binds you in mind, body, and soul."

The traditional concept of a 'soul' was not something Miles believed in, but he did not interrupt her explanation of this phenomenon.

"For the bond to work, a human must, of their own free will, submit themselves to it. For instance, if false feelings of love or trust are created through hypnosis, the bond will fail. You must understand and completely accept that you are giving yourself entirely to your Master. The bonding ritual itself involves specific words and the exchange of blood, but it is so much more than either. No human relationship, no matter how deep or strong, can rival the connection that is formed. Even the words are only a representation and must be backed by true intention to have any effect."

Her words and her tone of voice conveyed well the weight of the topic about which she was informing him. "I see... And... what is the consequence of this bond?" He folded his hands in his lap, leaning forward ever so slightly in an attentive posture.

"As I mentioned before, it grants the human participant the eternal youth vampires possess, granted they continue to drink a sufficient amount of their Master's blood every four to six weeks. That blood will also grant the human some of the vampire's physical prowess and heightened senses, though not to as great a degree. The most notable of these are increased endurance and regenerative ability, which - as you can imagine - is also an advantage to the vampire, who no longer has to restrain themselves quite as much. These benefits are what make the bond attractive to many people, but you must also understand one very important fact: the bond is complete surrender."

Miles drew his lower lip in slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Once bonded to a vampire, you become theirs. Every part of your being and who you are becomes theirs as well. They will always know exactly where you are and how you are feeling, even what type of thoughts are going through your head in a vague sense. They can impose their will upon you without the use of hypnosis and even from a distance, making their desires your desires. You will find that defying the wishes of your Master is impossible, and should you try, even physically painful. The bond is also permanent. The only way out is death, and while a vampire can choose to kill their human at any time without consequence... Well, you can see what usually becomes of humans who lose their Master." She indicated the catatonic woman with a gesture. "Those who lose their Master after only a few years of being bonded can recover, but it is still a devastating experience, like having part of your soul ripped asunder, as I hear it told."

Miles let out a long breath and leaned back a little, staring up at the ceiling as he worked to process all she had told him, tried to figure out how such a thing could possibly exist. As a man of science, he knew that even something so powerful and romanticized as love could actually be explained in technical terms, a fact most people would vehemently deny and dispute no matter the evidence put before them. However, this... this was on another level entirely and had to go far beyond what they could currently understand and explain. He supposed trying to make logical sense of it was futile, as he still had not figured out how vampires were scientifically possible. That would have to be left to the experts. He'd read about it after they solved the mystery, if he lived that long.

"It is a lot to take in, I know." The woman sitting across from him drew him out of his thoughts and he returned his gaze to her face. "It is not an arrangement anyone should enter into lightly, even if you feel strongly enough for the bond to technically work. After all, it requires no specific intention on the vampire's part, only that he or she accepts. There are many cases of vampires earning the unconditional trust of a human, and then becoming cruel and abusive once the bond is complete. There are no laws in their society that forbid such a practice, as the laws of vampires have never been meant to protect humans. There are other drawbacks as well, the main one being one that those who are turned face as well: you become a part of their hidden society and must leave behind the life you once knew. After all, people would notice if you never aged."

Miles nodded to show his understanding, but a thought quickly came to him. "That particular drawback seems to be on the verge of becoming irrelevant, however. If vampires can soon step into the public view, so can those humans who share their trait of not aging."

It was her turn to nod. "True. However, that will create a new downside. A human who does not age but stays in contact with friends and family will have to watch everyone they have ever known and loved grow old and die, save their Master, of course. It is a trade-off, yes, but I'm sure the alternative has not escaped your notice. If you choose _not_ to bond, you yourself will grow old and die while the one you love watches, forever young."

Miles slid the fingers of his right hand up his left arm to grip his elbow, turning his face away and down as he considered the true depth of the mire in which he now found himself. He saw exactly what she meant by the bond being either simple or complex depending on how much consideration it was given. On the surface, it was a way to spend eternity with someone you loved and trusted unconditionally in a relationship stronger than any human couple could possible attain. However, there was so much more to it, so many more things to consider and sacrifices to be weighed. Miles already knew that he cared enough about Phoenix that he would have to make that decision soon... if they survived this, of course.

"Let us focus on finding a way out of here first." Again, she brought him back to the here-and-now by speaking. "You have made yourself the unofficial commander of this little militia, so we need your attention here if we are to succeed."

Miles drew in a deep breath to fill his lungs entirely, then expelled it along with his musings over a decision that would be made in a future that was more uncertain than usual. "I thank you for telling me all of this, and if we make it out of here, I will consider all you have told me. However, you are correct. We are faced with a much more immediate problem and I must focus." With that said, he began to push himself back to his feet and look around to check the status of his 'militia.'

Forever would have to wait, as it all could end tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Nine**

He would overlook it. Just this once, he had to forget he was a prosecutor.

"You are... certain this will not backfire on us...?" Miles kept his distance, peering suspiciously at what looked like nothing more than three batteries and some wires and other junk piled against the bars penning them in.

The woman who had claimed to be ex-military straightened up and put her hands on her hips. "As long as no one's stupid enough to just hang out around here to get caught in the blast. Can't guarantee it'll actually _kill_ one of those fuckers, but some of this stuff has silver in it, so maybe we'll get lucky."

Miles forced himself to give a stiff nod. "Very well. I leave you in charge of this, then, Lt. Jones. If we can kill even one of them, it will improve our chances."

She shrugged. "Or, it'll just piss them off and they'll rip us all to shreds. Either way, I'd rather go out fighting."

"Indeed." To think he was sanctioning the use of a makeshift explosive... If they made it out, he fully expected to have to answer for this, but he couldn't worry about that yet. They couldn't arrest him if he was dead, after all. He turned to check up on the others, again grateful that some of those gathered had worked up the nerve to drag that dead body off somewhere until something could be done with it. The floor was still crusted with brown, dried blood, but at least they did not have to look at or _smell_ the poor man that had left the stain.

"Mr. Edgeworth!" He turned to see the teenager coming toward him. At first, this boy had been one of those that did not stand to volunteer themselves for the fight, but apparently, he had simply needed a little time to find his courage and realize just what he could contribute. As it turned out, he was rather tech-savvy. "I got it! I figured out how to trick those sensors! We can get into any room we want now!" His eyes were shining with excitement over his triumph, and Miles graced him with one of his rare half-smiles and a nod of approval.

"Excellent work. Gather together some of the people who are not otherwise occupied and begin searching the rooms for anything else we might be able to use. Exclude rooms five, eleven, twenty, and twenty-two, as we have keys for those and no need to break into them." Ah, yet another technically criminal offense he was authorizing. The list would surely continue to pile up before the day was done, but given that this was the closest thing to war he hoped ever to experience, Miles felt no true guilt.

"Gotcha', Chief!" the younger man exclaimed with a grin before he dashed off to find accomplices. Miles glanced around again, his gaze traveling over two people with firearms. They had possession of specially made silver bullets, another thing Miles had never thought he would a) encounter or b) have any use for whatsoever. He only hoped the owners of the guns were as good a shot as they claimed to be. The third weapon that had been brought in was a long silver knife whose owner claimed she had already killed multiple vampires with it.

Miles was putting a lot more faith in strangers than he was comfortable with, but he had no other choice.

The owner of that knife had only recently disappeared back down below. Her task was to dispose of the three guards resting in the storeroom. If she succeeded, it could be possible to free their ally vampires, but they both knew her task could easily result in her death. She had been confident she would _at least_ kill one of them, but what happened after that was uncertain. Miles kept watching the door, hoping it was she that emerged splattered with blood and ash.

He turned at the sound of footsteps to see the return of the Italian woman - Christina, he'd finally learned was her name - from further down the hall. "I have taken her to one of the available rooms, out of harm's way," she informed him, referring to the catatonic woman they had been unable to rouse.

He nodded. "We need to ensure everyone else stays out of the blast zone unless it is necessary to cross here. I would like to believe we are in the clear until nightfall, but such an assumption could prove dangerous."

It was as the two of them began to herd the remaining people away from the immediate area that the sound of an anguished feminine scream came up from below. Miles froze for a brief instant while other people gasped or wailed in fright, but the rush of adrenaline that followed gave him the push he needed. He wheeled around, flagging down the people with guns. "Both of you at the ready!" They came running and took up positions, ready to shoot anyone that came through the door, both with their eyes blown wide. "Everyone else, get back! Now! Go! Go!" His shouting seemed to jar most of the startled people who began running further down the hall at his urging, and he was not far behind them.

Miles swung around into one of the doorways and looked back around the edge of the wall just in time to see a figure dart out from the basement level. His heart stopped for an instant as one of the gunners was seized, and then came the all-too-familiar sound of a gunshot. Miles had no idea which had fired, but they had hit their mark, as within moments the new arrival was nothing more than a pile of ash and bloody clothing. He stayed motionless and tense, gripping the corner and watching for any more movement. He counted the seconds, and when ten had passed, he forced himself to move.

"We need to go below!" he called, passing by several petrified people. "The commotion won't go unnoticed! Lieutenant Jones, stay up here and man the door! Gunners, head down first and keep your weapons at the ready! Shoot anything that moves! The rest of you, follow me! We need to find a way to free the other captives!" He'd been hoping for more time, but that wasn't likely to be granted them. The sound of a gunshot would not be ignored by their captors.

By the time he reached the door, he had most of the others behind him, though a few had panicked and locked themselves in one of the rooms; he doubted they would be any safer there, and they would most certainly be alone. Oh well - he had no time to save people from their own foolishness, so just behind the gunners he began to descend. They halted at the bottom of the steps, scanning the near darkness for shapes or movement.

"...Looks all clear, Chief," the female gunner muttered as if afraid to speak too loudly. Miles wasn't entirely sure who had decided that was going to be his title, but he felt there was no point in disputing it.

"Both of you, remain here and watch for anyone coming down the stairs," he told them. "The rest of you, begin searching this room. Look for anything that might be used to free those chained." Orders given, he descended to the dusty storeroom floor and began scanning again. At this distance, he couldn't make out the vampires on the far side of the room, but he did see a curled figure lying somewhat nearby. Heart racing, he moved toward it, discovering the woman that had come down here wielding her dagger. She was still alive, but her ragged, irregular breathing told him even before he saw her that she did not have long.

Miles knelt beside her, caring nothing about the dust and grime that would stain his suit. The woman had her hands clutched over her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers and trailing from her mouth in a thin stream. "...got... two of them..." she whispered. "...n-never... saw me coming..." A weak smile of self-satisfaction formed on her bloody lips, though her eyes were wide and hazy with pain.

"You did well," Miles murmured. "You can rest easy knowing that the one who did this to you met his end just after."

"Good..." She took in another rasping, halting breath. "Just... don't fuck this up, okay...? This... better be... for something..."

"Your sacrifice will not be in vain, nor forgotten." Miles had to keep all emotion down, to wear his mask of stone as he spoke to this dying woman that was giving her life for him and the others. He could not afford to let this affect him, not right now.

"T-take... m-my knife..." It was getting more and more difficult for her to speak. "I... don't... think its... had enough of... their blood y-yet..."

"It will be put to good use," he continued to assure her, spotting the bloody knife lying not far away. "Rest now. You have earned it."

Three more shuddering breaths and she stilled, all air and tension expelled. The light faded from her eyes, leaving them to stare blankly ahead, and with a gesture that felt more automatic than it should have, Miles reached up to draw her eyelids closed.

"Chief! We found some tools!"

Miles looked up and gave a stiff nod before grasping the ornate handle of the bloody knife. With his other hand, he unfastened its sheath from its owner's hip and slid the blade inside. He would have to find someone else that could wield it effectively if he got the chance, but in the meantime, he tucked it beneath his jacket, quickly tying the leather thong around his upper arm so that the weapon rested against his left shoulder. He then stood and turned to the group of people standing nearby. "Take what you think you can use. We must free the most powerful of those held here first, and I suggest those of you with such companions feed them quickly after they are freed." He felt a pang as he said this, knowing that Phoenix would be a low priority for the time being. He was likely one of the youngest - if not _the_ youngest vampire present.

Speaking of Phoenix... As people grabbed what they needed, Miles headed off in the direction he remembered his lover being. Upon spotting him, he felt some of his resolve break apart and went quickly to his side, dropping back down to his knees. "Phoenix..." he whispered, trying not to be alarmed at the sight of the blank, dead-eyed stare. He had thought all of this activity would wake the captive vampires, even though it was still shortly before dusk, but Phoenix wasn't looking at him. "Phoenix, wake up."

No response.

Now, he started to worry. Miles swallowed thickly to try and get his heart back down in his chest where it belonged, lightly shaking his lover as the sounds of people hacking at chains nearby rang out in the vast, open, concrete room. "Ph-Phoenix, come on. Wake up. Phoenix!" He was starting to panic, even while telling himself over and over that Phoenix couldn't be dead or he'd be a pile of ash. Those assurances meant little, however, as he had no idea how his inability to rouse his lover could mean anything good. "Phoenix Wright! D-dammit, wake up! Y-you've got to-"

The unmistakable sound of an explosion made his blood run cold. Time was up, and as far as he could see, no one had managed to completely free any of the other vampires. The world slowed to a crawl for four heartbeats, and then shouts and screams and gunshots erupted all around him. He couldn't move, couldn't look behind himself to see the terror and the chaos, couldn't take his eyes off of what looked like nothing more than the lifeless corpse of the man he loved.

Powerful hands seized his waist from behind and swung him up off the floor as if he weighed no more than a helpless kitten. He was completely petrified, his mind refusing to process what it meant as he was thrown over someone's shoulders, and then it stopped processing anything at all. The dimly-lit storeroom and the tumult plunged quickly into total darkness and oppressive silence, and he knew no more.

* * *

><p>The sound of quiet conversation was the first thing he heard when he came to consciousness. Perhaps it was what brought him there, but now that he was waking, nothing felt right.<p>

Phoenix opened his eyes to find himself sitting on the floor, legs crossed, and his entire body feeling constricted. He looked around, blinking in utter confusion. Everything seemed blurry and dim, like someone had turned down the world a few notches, leaving him extremely disoriented. His mind was taking an annoyingly long time to catch up, but with a start, he suddenly recognized his surroundings.

He was in his old office, sitting on the floor in front of his desk. The television was on, and the soft glow of waning daylight cast long shadows over the familiar scene. Though he now knew where he was, that fact only raised more questions, and he found himself wondering if the past year had somehow all been a dream.

No. That just wasn't possible, was it? Sure, plenty of things had happened that he would be all too happy to erase from reality, but there were other things he so desperately wanted to be real.

He was becoming more and more aware of how constricted he felt, especially each time he inhaled - he was _breathing?!_ Slowly, his gaze traveled downward to investigate, and he started at the sight.

He could not have mistaken the garments he was wearing for anything other than what they were: the robes of a spirit medium. The pieces all started falling into place inside his dazed head, and he felt feint. He was being channeled... He was dead - truly dead - and he was being channeled. Sickness caused him to sway even more, and he was so certain he was about to collapse.

He was dead. He had died and left Miles all alone...

...Miles!

Phoenix snapped back to awareness, driving back the darkness and struggling to get to his feet. He had absolutely no idea whether or not Miles was still alive, but if he was, Phoenix had to save him. He couldn't worry about his own predicament right now. He was on the outside of that accursed compound now, which meant he could get help!

First, though... he had to get out of these robes. He could hardly move in them.

Fortunately, he'd always kept some spare clothing at the office, as he'd often spent his nights here and hadn't wished to sleep in his suit. He wrestled with the purple robes and finally managed to remove them, pulling on the first garments he grabbed, which turned out to be a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. He couldn't be bothered with trying to look presentable, though when he caught a glimpse of himself and _his hair_ in the mirror on the back of the door, he decided he should at least try to conceal _that._

After tucking the strange combination of his and Maya's hair into a plain blue beanie, he turned to scan the office. A piece of paper lying on the desk immediately drew his attention, and he took in a deep breath as he approached to peer down at it. He recognized Maya's handwriting and felt a pang in his chest.

_"Nick,_

_If you're reading this, I guess that means you're dead and the channeling worked. I didn't want to even think it was possible, but I just couldn't wait around anymore without learning the truth. A lot of people are going to miss you, Nick. I just hope you didn't suffer._

_Mr. Edgeworth has been looking for you all this time. We never gave up, but I guess now we finally know the truth. He would probably appreciate it if you left a note telling us what happened. Obviously, we couldn't use it in any official police stuff, but it would give us closure. I'd have Pearly channel you so we can talk face-to-face, but I don't want to ask that of her just yet. She's going to be devastated._

_I'm not really sure what else to say, and writing this is making me cry, so I'm gonna stop. We're all going to miss you, Nick; I hope you know that._

_With love,  
>Maya<em>

_P.S. Sorry. My clothes probably don't fit you very well, but channeling naked just seemed way too weird."_

Phoenix let out a slow, trembling sigh as the weight of everything settled on him. Sure, he'd basically been dead for a year already, but no one had really accepted it yet, and Miles hadn't had to. He not only felt his own sense of loss, but that of everyone he cared for.

Strange... He'd always thought the dead were at peace, but all he felt was sorrow and worry.

_"And now onto our top story: The search continues for the source of the mysterious and extremely disturbing videos that have been circulating around the World Wide Web. If you're just tuning in, recordings of what appear to be savage murders surfaced last night on obscure and illegal websites and have been making their way onto more mainstream message boards and social media. Police have thus far been unable to discern the authenticity of these videos or to identify the alleged victims depicted in them. They are offering a large reward for any information that might lead to the discovery of the proprietors of these films that are far too graphic for us to show you on public television."_

Phoenix felt his heart begin to race, recalling the conversation with Councilman Mason back in the storeroom. God, he hoped Miles had not starred in any of the videos released so far, and he quickly grabbed the phone on his desk. When he put it to his ear, he instantly heard the obnoxious busy signal and realized there was no way his office phone was still connected after all this time. He was honestly surprised the power was still on and wondered if Miles had been paying that bill to help keep up his pretense.

Phoenix began to frantically search the room until he discovered Maya's cellphone. He probably should have dialed the emergency number, but instead he found Detective Gumshoe in her contacts list and called him, pacing anxiously as he waited for the other man to pick up.

_"Hello? Ms. Fey?"_

"No," Phoenix answered, but did not elaborate. "Detective, this is urgent. I know exactly where those snuff films are coming from. They're real and there are soon going to be more of them if we don't-"

_"Who is this?"_ Gumshoe cut him off, sounding agitated. _"Look, pal, I don't know what you're doing with Maya's phone, but you can't just call me directly like-"_

"Detective!" The anger in his own voice might have surprised him had he not spent the past year as a blood-thirsty creature of the night who had trouble reining in his emotions. "This is Phoenix Wright, and don't ask me any fucking questions right now! They've got MIles and they're going to kill him if we don't do something _NOW!"_

Gumshoe sputtered. _"M-M-Mr. Edgeworth?! They've got Mr. Edgeworth!? Where?! Tell me where! Right now!"_

Phoenix rattled off the address as he strode briskly out of the office. "But listen, Detective, you can't just rush in there. There's something you need to know-"

_"Got it, pal! I'm gonna' get Mr. Edgeworth outta' there, and then you're gonna' explain to me where the hell you've been for a year!"_

"DETECTIVE!" Too late. The line went dead. "Fuck!" Phoenix swore aloud, struggling mightily to resist the urge to throw Maya's phone against the outer wall of the office building. Gumshoe was going to get himself and everyone else involved killed! He had to reach the precinct before the police deployed, but that was going to be exceedingly difficult without a vehicle of his own. All he could think to do was hail a cab and tell the driver they'd get paid extra for making good time. He'd give them Miles' name, hoping it would be recognized and spur the driver onward with the promise of good pay from a wealthy prosecutor.

He had no idea what he was going to do when he got there, but he had to try and warn the police. Chances were they wouldn't even believe him, but making no attempt would guarantee failure. He had to try! For Miles' sake, he had to try!


	10. Chapter 10

(**A/N:** It's possible some of you may recognize the OC in this chapter, but I've changed her name because I used a much earlier, less developed, and less interesting version of her in an older story several years ago. If anyone here happens to be from the old RP forums I used to run, you're much more likely to recognize _this_ version of her.

Just thought I'd bring it up in case someone is like, _"Wait a minute...!")_

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Ten**

Miles thought he had known the meaning of true dread. Six months prior as he dwelt in his basement room, a chained prisoner, trying to comprehend the existence of vampires and watching the clock tick ever closer to sundown, he'd thought he understood what it meant to be truly terrified. So many times he had feared for his life, seriously believed he was about to die.

...But this...

He was going to lose his mind; he was sure of it. The screaming... Oh, god, the screaming! He couldn't see what was happening from where he and the other captives were being held, but he could _hear everything._ He had no idea what time it was or for how long they had been there, but so far he had watched a total of four people, taken one at a time, dragged out of this side room. First had been the male gunner, then the female gunner, then Christina. The most recent had been the teenaged boy, and it was his screams that now drilled into Miles' very core. Each person taken out would scream for hours. The nature, volume, and frequency of the cries would vary, but never the overtone of agony.

He was starting to think they were the lucky ones...

Everyone left waiting in this room, bound and gagged, knew their turn was coming, but they did not know when. They were left to stew in abject terror, forced to imagine what was happening out in the ballroom and wonder which of those horrors they would themselves suffer. If Miles was still sane by the time he was chosen, he would count it a sadistic miracle. Those people that had come before... Their suffering was over. They were at peace and knew no pain, no terror, no sorrow, nothing.

He was just trying to tune it out, trying so hard to mentally escape. He was trying to think of Phoenix, hold his face in his mind's eye and hold it tight. Unfortunately, that face kept staring back at him with dead, glassy eyes, and would sometimes transform into that of the woman he'd watched die, the woman whose knife rested uselessly against his left shoulder. He couldn't think about Phoenix without thinking of how he wouldn't wake, and that only added to his feeling of utter hopelessness.

He had tried. He had given it his all. They all had, but they had failed. Now, they were all to be systematically tortured to death for the amusement of others. Not for the first time, hot tears began to leak from beneath his tightly closed eyelids, but they were silent. He was too petrified, too weary, too defeated even to sob as he wept.

At last, the poor young man's screams faded away, and Miles knew he had been granted the mercy of death. The sounds of whimpering and panicked breathing started up around him again, as they all knew what was coming next. Any of them could be the next chosen, the next to meet their slow, agonizing end before the eyes of the world. Miles didn't make a sound, nor did he open his eyes as footsteps approached.

"It is nearly dawn. Perhaps we should just leave them for tonight."

"Oh no, amiga, you promised. I will have him before we rest."

An exasperated sigh. "Right, fine, but just this last one. And this is the last time I deal with the bleeds just so you can have your fun."

The familiar female voice was getting closer. "Hey, no one said you had to film it. I just don't like being denied."

"Mason said we had to film it, especially this one."

"Whatever." Miles gasped when he felt someone take hold of the rope binding his hands, and he knew exactly what this meant. As he was dragged across the floor by that rope, he knew he would no longer have to listen to the shrieks of other people dying; he would only have to hear his own for a while, and then it would be over.

_I'm sorry, Phoenix... I couldn't save us..._

Would Phoenix feel it when he died, or was he already gone? He recalled that, while they weren't actually bonded, Phoenix had always had a sense of where he was, if a vague one. So, if Phoenix was still alive and aware, he would surely feel it when that presence was no more. In that case, he supposed it would be best to hope Phoenix _wasn't_ aware anymore. He didn't want the man he loved to suffer...

Miles was lifted off the floor and grunted when his back hit something hard. It was at this point that he dared to open his eyes, basic human curiosity compelling him to know where he was and who was around him. He was in the ballroom, of course, and now lay atop one of the tables. The scent of blood and other putrid odors permeated the air and nearly made him choke.

And, standing over him - as he's suspected - was Catarina. She wore a smirk of fiendish delight, her eyes filled with a kind of bestial hunger and lust he'd not ever seen in Phoenix's, even during his worst lapses of self-control. Before he could look away, he felt himself being drawn into that gaze, losing all sense of his surroundings and himself. It was a sensation he had not experienced in many months.

"You are going to do everything I tell you, exactly as I tell you to. Isn't that right?"

"...Yes... Of course..."

"No matter the pain or humiliation it will cause you, you will obey without hesitation."

"...Yes..."

"Very good."

He felt a rush like falling backward several feet, causing him to gasp. It ws only then that he actually realized the gag had been removed; he didn't remember that happening, but... he had spoken, hadn't he? The ropes binding his wrists and ankles were also removed, and while he was now free to move about, he had no thoughts of even attempting escape. It would be a futile act of foolish desperation, and could perhaps even prolong his suffering.

It was then that he spotted the camera a few feet behind Catarina, another woman he did not recognize operating it. A little red light indicated that it was currently recording, and he knew it was focused on him.

"Now, my dear, why don't you tell the nice folks at home who you are?"

He could think of many, many reasons why not to speak, the most important of them being that he had absolutely no desire to. However, he felt a compulsion that he could not explain telling him that he _had_ to, and his lips seemed to move almost without his consent.

"...I am High Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth of Los Angeles, California..."

"Very good," Catarina said in mock praise. "And now, tell them what is about to happen to you."

His voice was already so choked with fear that speaking was difficult, but these next words only made it out because some force inside of him demanded it. "...I-I am about to die..."

Catarina gave a malevolent giggle. "Oh, such a smart little chico. Rather handsome, as well. That suit fits your appearance quite well, but... I think I would rather you be without it for our time spent together. After all, I would hate for it to be ruined; it looks expensive. Remove it, but do not rush."

He was certain his heart had not stopped racing throughout this entire night, and while he was utterly amazed it was still going at all, it had left his body feeling so weak and weary that simply moving on his own sounded like a feat of strength. That was to say nothing of the stiffness in his muscles and his sheer unwillingness to comply with her command, but despite it all, he forced his body to respond and sat up. He felt as though the tears should still be flowing or that his face should at least be burning with humiliation, but he just felt numb. Stiff, unfeeling fingers went to the back of his neck where his lace cravat was tied and he began working it loose, just staring down at the blood-stained tablecloth beneath him.

She'd told him to strip: she hadn't ordered him to look at either her or the camera while he did it.

When he had unfastened the accessory and drawn it away, he felt the frigid air caress his neck and heard a hum of delight from Catarina. "Already such an improvement! Keep going." The order to do so had been pointless, really, as he was already in the process of drawing off his jacket. She would soon see the knife and confiscate it, not that it would do him any good at this point. He let his jacket simply fall to the table behind him, and then reached up to begin working at the buttons of his black waistcoat.

Catarina laughed aloud. "Well, well, well! What is that? I must say, I did not expect such a dignified, high-society man such as yourself to be armed with such a formidable weapon. Out of curiosity, do you even know how to use one of those?"

"...Not effectively..." he mumbled, just focusing on his task, his disheveled bangs hanging down in front of his face to partially hide it from view. It was the best method of concealing himself he had, as all other layers would soon be peeled away.

He had only two buttons left on his vest when Catarina suddenly spoken, sounding tense. "Wait. What was that?"

It was by her statement of 'wait' that his hands stopped their descent, though this was one order he would not complain about. She wasn't looking at him anymore, and her demeanor made him start to look around as she was. He didn't hear anything, but then again, he wasn't a vampire.

Without warning, a deafening crash shook the entire structure. Glass shattered, gargoyles toppled from their perches to crack the hardwood below them, drywall splintered and flew everywhere along with a massive cloud of dust and debris, and Miles found himself flat on his back, staring at the eastern horizon through a missing portion of wall.

Screaming... He could hear more screaming, and it was not his own. A shrill, piercing, unearthly shriek bore into his brain, and for its duration he thought it might render him unconscious.

By contrast, warm sunlight bathed his face, and he inhaled as though he could breathe it in.

As if the screams had paralyzed him, he found himself able to look around once they died away. He did not see Catarina or the woman filming, but he did see people rushing in through the opening. Some were clearly members of SWAT, while others wore a black uniform he couldn't quite place. He was now surrounded by shouting and gun blasts and he couldn't really comprehend any of it. He stayed frozen, but before he'd known what had happened, he found himself on the floor, under the table instead of atop it.

"Stay down there, Ruffles!" called a woman's voice he didn't recognize from a source he could not see. He really didn't know if the words were even meant for him, but he had no intention of moving. His utter fatigue and the tumultuous chaos drove him into sensory overload, and it all started to just fade into the background, leaving him only somewhat lucid. He couldn't feel anything and couldn't focus on any aspect of his immediate surroundings.

_Now, this is somewhat odd... i can't seem to recall my elementary school band director's name... I remember I was quite fond of her as an instructor, and she of me as a young flautist... Come to think of it... I don't remember any of my old teacher's names... Is my memory really so poor...? I wonder if I remember how to play the flute... It has been nearly twenty years, but would it not feel somewhat familiar...? Phoenix would certainly be amused... or he would make some crass joke, suggesting I should play the flute while kneeling instead... He has certainly proven to be more lewd than I had expected... I cannot say I mind terribly, if I am to be honest with myself... It is a nice change of pace from how the rest of the world-_

"Miles!"

As if he'd just been dragged up from beneath a pool of water, the world came back into focus all at once. His head was throbbing, his body ached, his ears burned, his eyes stung, his throat was dry, and he felt an overwhelming urge to vomit. He rolled over onto his hands and knees just in time as he began retching violently. What came out was mostly liquid, as he'd had nothing to eat in over twenty-four hours, but that did not stop him from emptying the contents of his stomach and then dry-heaving for a solid minute.

Somewhere in the midst of this ordeal, he realized someone was holding his hair back and supporting him with an arm under his chest. When the reflex finally stopped, he stayed just as he was, gasping for air, trying to blink away the moisture clouding his vision.

"God... Miles... I'm so sorry..."

One of his breaths hitched in his throat at the sound of that voice, a voice he knew all too well. He turned abruptly, but relief and joy became utter confusion as he looked at the face of his lover. "...Ph... Phoenix...? W-wha...?" His voice was so hoarse he barely recognized it, but his need for water was the least of his worries.

Phoenix was holding him, looking back at him, but nothing was right. The first thing Miles noticed were his eyes: they looked human, the eyes he remembered meeting from across a courtroom. Next was the tone of his skin - _It's not pale enough..._ - and the way he was dressed - _Where on earth did he get __**that?!**_

Lastly, he noticed the strip of sunlight falling across his lover's face, noticed how it was not burning him. He stared, unable to comprehend this, not wanting to. Phoenix wasn't human anymore and never would be again, so that was not what he was seeing. In his current state, no other logical conclusions came to him, but his gut feeling of dread told him all he needed to know: this was nothing good.

"M-Miles, I'll... I'll explain in a minute. Just... Just come here..." Miles was drawn to Phoenix's chest and he went willingly, putting most of his weight on his lover, who somehow seemed to be a bit strained beneath it. Miles knew he should have wept as he buried his face in the fabric of the gray sweater at Phoenix's shoulder, but he was too drained even to cry. He just lay there and breathed, inhaled a scent that was only partially familiar. He didn't even move when he heard Phoenix suddenly call out to someone. "H-hey, over here! Someone needs medical attention over here!"

A mewling cry of protest was all Miles could manage when someone began trying to take him away from his lover's arms. He clutched that sweater like a lifeline, but even Phoenix was trying to get him to relinquish his grip.

"Miles, it's okay. Shhh... It's okay. They're here to help. I'm going to stay right here beside you, I promise."

He didn't have the strength left to resist for long and he was soon laid out on his back, something unexpectedly soft beneath him. He tried to keep his gaze on Phoenix's face, but his vision was growing steadily more unfocused, his auditory beginning to fail him. He was sinking back into that pool of water, but this time he didn't want to go. He wanted to see Phoenix! He couldn't be apart from Phoenix again or they would surely lose one another! He struggled, pushing weakly at the hands of strangers that tried to keep him below the surface, keep him still, but he just didn't have the strength to swim up.

In the end he sank, and the darkness swallowed him.

* * *

><p>Phoenix's lip trembled as he watched his poor Miles in such a frantic state. It was clear the man didn't really understand where he was or what was going on, but at least the sedative was kicking in and he'd sleep for a little while. He obviously needed the rest; Phoenix could only imagine what he had been through beyond what he himself had witnessed.<p>

"Try not to worry," said one of the EMTs as he pulled one of the gurney straps over Miles' left arm. "It doesn't look like he's suffered any severe physical injuries. He's probably just exhausted and dehydrated, nothing we can't fix."

Phoenix swallowed and took in a shaky breath. "Yeah... Thanks..." was all he could manage, regretting he couldn't make it sound more sincere. He was grateful that Miles would be cared for, but he knew his lover's pain was not at an end. All of those monsters were dead, but...

...so was he...

Phoenix stood there helpless and lost as Miles was tended to, glancing around on occasion to see all the others that were receiving attention. He saw none of the other vampires he'd been captured alongside, but that was to be expected, as it was daylight. Being out in the sun was a very odd feeling after an entire year spent in either darkness or artificial light, but he really couldn't find it within himself to enjoy the feeling.

"Damn! For a bunch of unarmed humans, the captives here sure packed a wallop!"

Phoenix turned to come face-to-face with one of the F.B.I. Spec. Ops. agents that had accompanied the police here, a woman whose boisterous demeanor and fiery red hair had caught his attention upon first meeting her. Agent ... _something_ Nyxier, if memory served. She was wearing a black uniform just like the other agents and armed to the teeth; he counted ten weapons, and he was sure there were twice as many he couldn't see. She was also wearing sunglasses, and while it made sense now, she'd been wearing them since three in the morning when he'd first encountered her and her squad.

"Ah... Really? How so?" He was honestly a little intimidated by this woman, as she was nearly his height, and though he wouldn't describe her as bulky, he could tell that the shape under that uniform was mostly hard muscle. Had he still been vampire, he'd probably feel differently, but that wasn't the case.

She tossed her head to throw her bangs out of her eyes before answering. "You said there were like fifteen to twenty of those Imperialist guys, right? We only found four. They're dead now!" She grinned cheerily.

Phoenix chewed his lower lip. "Uh... That... might mean they all left before we got here, last night or something." With that possibility, he didn't understand how she could be smiling.

The agent shrugged. "Well, we found a shit-ton of ash heaps chillin' out down there, soooo..."

Phoenix's eyes widened a little in surprise and he glanced over at Miles, who was by now sound asleep. "Oh, wow... How did they...?"

"Looks like a bomb went off down there, and we found a bunch of bullets." That grin stayed plastered on her face, and Phoenix himself couldn't stop the tiny smile that curved his own lips. He felt certain that Miles had had a hand in that, somehow. He felt a sense of pride, glad to know that, after all he'd been through, Miles could still find his own strength and make a stand.

"By the way, _you_ are the creepiest motherfucker I've ever met!"

"Umm... Sorry, you mean me?" he asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he did not know what else to do with them. "How... exactly am I creepy?" He wasn't even a vampire anymore!

She was grinning at him; she always looked way too happy about the most morbid things. "Unless you've got a twin brother that's a vampire, you're totally in two places at once right now. It's fuckin' creepy! Stop it!"

"Eh... Umm... Well..." Abashed, Phoenix reached up to toy with the knot at the back of his beanie. He was considering how best to explain his current situation to her and whether or not to even try.

And then realization dawned on him. "W-wait, what did you just say?"

She was smirking at him all of a sudden. "I think you heard me just fine, Spike."

His heart was drumming an intense cadence against his ribs as he glanced toward the lobby beyond the ballroom, then back at his lover. He had to go see for himself, as odd as it sounded, but he didn't want to leave Miles, especially if they were about to load him into the ambulance and take him away.

"Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on Ruffles for you." And now, there was something more friendly about her smile, the fourth expression he'd seen on her face within the last thirty seconds. He wasn't entirely sure if trusting her was a good idea, but then again, Miles was in the hands of the medics and he was unconscious.

"I'll... I-I'll be back up in a few minutes," he finally said before racing off toward the stairs, trying to avoid slipping on all the gore left everywhere. As he flew downward, he briefly wondered exactly how that agent seemed to know what was going on, but he couldn't worry about it right then.

There was quite a bit of activity down below in the storeroom as well. All of the captive vampires had been freed, though since it was daylight, some were just lying on the floor in a restive state anyhow. Others were tentatively awake, talking with agents or feeding from their humans. Some of them gave him extremely strange looks, but until he neared the back wall, no one spoke to him.

"Mr. Wright, what on Earth...?" Chief Councilor Anaija was sitting against the wall, looking groggy. She stared at him, then looked to her right, then back at him. She next rubbed her eyes, as if they were to blame. Phoenix swallowed hard and slowly shifted his gaze to follow her glance.

It was the strangest feeling, standing there awake and breathing while looking at his own motionless, pale corpse. To say the sight made him uneasy was a massive understatement, but he drew a little closer anyway. He couldn't quite comprehend this: he was here, but he was also there. By all rights, he should have been looking at a pile of ash wearing tripp pants.

At least someone had done him the courtesy of removing the silver chains, even though he was unresponsive - dead, for all intensive purposes.

"Any chance you can explain to me what's going on?"

He was drawn out of his daze by the Councilwoman's voice, and he turned to fix her with a perplexed expression. "I can try, Chief Councilor, but I'm a little lost myself." He paused, chewing his lip. "Umm... So... I have this friend that's a spirit medium. She can channel the spirits of the dead into her body and bring them into this world for a time. A-apparently, she... erm... was able to channel me... even though I wasn't truly dead. I... have no idea how that works, and I don't know what's going to happen when i... uh... leave her body..." Slowly, he turned his gaze back to his own shell, feeling queasy.

Anaija stared at him for a long time, and then slowly shook her head in disbelief. "Wonder of wonders..." she muttered. "Just when I think I have dwelt here long enough to understand undeath, the state of limbo in which we exist, something new comes along to humble me."

Somehow, Phoenix found it in himself to chuckle. "Actually, that kinda' sounds like life in general..." He trailed off, staring at his still body for a few more silent seconds, then sighing. "I'm... going back upstairs. I, uh... I don't know. I might see you tonight, or... I might just..." He stopped, unable to bring himself to give voice to what he feared was the alternative. "Rest well, Chief Councilor."

"Mr. Wright."

"Huh?" He had been halfway through turning around when he stopped to look back at her.

"Your human. Is he... still alive?"

He watched her eyes, and through the haze of weariness he could see pain. "He is." He didn't elaborate, and her next words made him glad of his decision.

"I am glad to hear it. My Christina... did not survive the night. It is a hurt which I have never before experienced, and I cannot rest because of it. If you reawaken, and if you bond with him... don't ever make such a careless mistake as I did..."

It wasn't something Phoenix needed to be told, but he understood that she had probably just needed to tell someone, to find some sort of companionship in her grief. "I'm sorry for your loss, Chief Councilor. I... wish we could have arrived sooner. But... thank you for the warning. If I wake up back in my own body, you... You still have my full support, for what it's worth."

She gave him a weak smile. "You have spirit; I'll give you that. We won't let this discourage us... We won in the end... We just... have to lick our wounds."

A macabre grin spread across his lips. "We're vampires, Councilwoman. I'm sure we'll be quite efficient at that."


	11. Chapter 11

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Eleven**

When Miles awoke, he felt no desire to open his eyes.

There was a soft yet incessant beeping sound coming from somewhere off to his right, and after a few seconds of sifting through a thick haze clouding his mind, he recognized it. He also became aware of a rather distinctive sterile smell, further confirmation of his assessment of his surroundings. After all that had happened, it was only logical that he would wake in the hospital, and the foggy feeling...? They had likely drugged him with something...

He was still extremely reluctant to do so, but he blinked his eyes open to take in the sight of the white room. The door was shut, his magenta suit and accessories were folded and ordered on a table near it - they would be terribly wrinkled - there was a television mounted on the wall across from him, he was wearing a white gown and covered with a white blanket, and only a small amount of light was coming in through the closed blinds over the window.

Oh, and he wasn't alone.

Miles stared for a while at the lump on the bench beneath the window before he recognize it as Maya Fey's curled form, huddled under another hospital-issued blanket with her head resting on a pillow. Her hair was a mess, but her back was to him, so he could not see her face. It was difficult to tell, but he concluded that she was wearing a pair of blue scrubs, and he had to wonder how she'd gotten a hold of them.

He also had to briefly consider why she was there, but it came to him rather quickly with an awful sinking feeling.

...Phoenix had brought her here... as a spirit inhabiting her body...

He hadn't wanted to understand what it meant when he saw Phoenix during the rescue, hadn't wanted to face it. He still didn't want to. God, he wanted to deny it and drum up any excuse to justify such denial, but deep down... he knew... He knew the truth and there was no lying to himself. To think that seeing Phoenix as the human man he had once pined over would now be such a terrible sight to behold, simply for what it implied. Miles couldn't even try to dispute it by denying the existence of spirit mediums and the legitimacy of their powers. There was nothing else that sight _could_ have meant unless he'd been hallucinating, and Maya's presence here put a damper on that theory.

No, he couldn't talk himself out of the pit of despair into which he was slowly sinking. He knew what he'd seen, and what it meant, and now all he wanted to do was close his eyes, go back to sleep, and never wake again.

_Phoenix... Why...?_ Miles had known the chances of them making it out alive had been slim, but the idea that only one of them would make it out, that he would be left alone to grieve... he couldn't stand this... Images of the horrors he had seen kept flashing before his mind's eye, and survivor's guilt gnawed at his conscience. He had endured, he had fought back and somehow survived long enough to beat the odds, but in the end... he had lost the only person he had ever truly opened his heart to.

Miles felt like his head was splitting in two, felt like something within him was tearing, ripping, falling to tiny, irreparable little pieces. He didn't shed a single tear, just lay there staring at nothing, too traumatized by it all to even find the will to weep. He was sure this was it, that this would be what finally broke him. He had seen so much horror and death in his life, and this time it had been beyond anything he had ever imagined. He had placed himself in Phoenix's hands, told himself that he could endure anything so long as he had that man to fall back on, his rock, his protector, his savior...

...but now he was gone, and Miles was left to face it all alone. He couldn't. It was too much to bear.

He could not have measured the amount of time he lay there, staring straight ahead into another time and place, but it was the sound of the door opening and closing that pulled him back into the dark hospital room. His attention gravitated toward the sound, and he started badly at the figure that stood there.

Hunched and haggard, dressed in black and belts and chains, skin pale and arms badly burned, Phoenix stood near the door, one hand on the table beside it to keep himself up. Miles gawked in open-mouthed astonishment, unable to find his voice.

He heard a tiny gasp off to his right. "N... Nick...?"

Phoenix struggled for a moment, then took his weight off his arm to move a few steps into the room. He was trying to reach the bed, but didn't quite make it and fell to his knees instead.

"Nick...? Is that...?"

"...hey, Maya..." Phoenix greeted her, drawing out each word as if he were barely conscious and unable to cut them off at the appropriate times. He was working to get back to his feet, and Miles still could not find it in himself to say anything.

"N-Nick, you... Oh my... M-Mr. Edgeworth... Mr. E-Edgeworth, Nick is..."

At last, Miles swallowed and took in a shaky breath, still gazing at Phoenix while he tried to answer Maya's stammering. "Y-yes, I know... That is-"

"NICK IS A ZOMBIE! AAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Miles snapped his head to the right to see Maya spring up from the bench in pure panic, her eyes - puffy and red from crying - blown wide with terror. She made a beeline for the door, intent on escape. However, Phoenix seemed to find his strength in this dire moment and was much faster. In an instant, he stood in front of Maya, hands gripping her shoulders.

"Maya, it's all right. It's okay. Everything is fine..."

Miles blinked in bewilderment as he watched all the tension go out of the young woman. She just stood there, staring back at Phoenix with a blank, serene expression, her gaze locked on his, her eyes wide and hyper-focusing. Realization dawned on Miles then: this was the first time he had ever actually witnessed hypnosis as an outsider.

"You're safe, Maya. No one is going to harm you..."

Maya breathed a little sigh of relief, even though she looked completely relaxed already.

"I'm not a zombie. Zombies aren't real."

"...they're not...?"

"Fuck, I hope n- I mean... umm... No, they're not. You were simply having a bad dream."

"...I was...?"

"Yes. You had a nightmare, and it's time to go back to sleep. When I count to three, you'll go lay down and sleep until morning."

"...Okay..."

"One. Two. Three..."

Still in a trance, Maya turned around and walked back to the bench she was using as a bed, lay down, covered up, and then fell silent and still.

Slowly, Phoenix turned back to face Miles, bending forward to place a hand on the end of the bed to support himself. "Miles, I'm... sorry I worried you..." he said, the strain evident in his voice. "I just... wanted to come here and let you know I'm still around, but... I have to go... I need to... hunt..."

The heart monitor's rhythm suddenly picked up as panic set in and Miles hurriedly sat up. "No, don't leave," he pleaded, reaching out for his lover. He'd only just gotten Phoenix back after being so certain he'd died! He didn't understand how it was possible yet, but he didn't want to be apart from him again.

A guttural growl preceded the sound of Phoenix's fangs protruding, and with his lips slightly parted, Miles could see them glistening with saliva. "Miles, if I stay here with the two of you, I'm going to lose it... I can't-"

"There is no reason to look elsewhere," Miles argued, making no effort to hide his desperation. "I'm right here."

"You're in a hospital bed!" Gravel laced Phoenix's words, telling Miles just how close to the surface the beast had risen. He was honestly amazed the young vampire was holding out this long.

"I'm not hurt." Miles wasn't giving up. He would do anything to keep Phoenix near. "I am only being kept here so they can ensure there are no complications from my... my trauma. If you feel it is necessary afterward, I can take some of your blood! Just please don't-"

His words were cut off with a grunt at the impact of hitting the bed. Phoenix had pounced on him, pinning his shoulders to the mattress. He was momentarily dazed, just staring up at the elongated canines looming mere inches from his face. It did not take long, however, to realize that Phoenix was still struggling, still trying to restrain himself. He was tense and shaking, fingers gripping Miles' shoulders painfully tight.

Miles swallowed hard to brace himself to give the final push. "Phoenix... Please... I want you to..." It wasn't a lie. He needed to know this was real, that this wasn't some dream brought to him in his grief.

The bite came sudden and harsh, causing him to cry out. It had been a long time since Phoenix had bitten him that hard, back during his worst lapses in control. This was a bad sign, but Miles was determined to trust him no matter what. When the shock of pain subsided, he moved his hands to Phoenix's upper back, holding him as he fed. Miles closed his eyes, taking comfort in the familiarity of it: the rhythmic suction, the tongue lapping at his skin, the sound of it all.

Had someone told him six months ago that he would find security in Phoenix drinking blood from the side of his neck, he would have had them committed.

Miles tried his best not to get worried when he began to feel lightheaded. Phoenix had been extremely weak and injured; he just needed more than usual and would stop before the situation became dire. As his consciousness began to wain, Phoenix was showing no signs of stopping, but all of a sudden the fangs withdrew and the weight on him lifted.

An instant later, there came a knock on the door and it opened.

"Mr. Edgeworth, is everything-? Wait, who are-?"

"Everything is fine."

"...it is...?"

"Yes. His heart rate will be back to normal shortly. Oh, and... I have special permission to be here as a second overnight guest."

"...you do...?"

"Yes, don't you remember?"

"...ah, yes... that's right..."

"Very good. Thank you for being so diligent in taking care of Mr. Edgeworth. Good evening, miss."

"...good evening..."

Miles heard the door shut softly and then the rattling of the chains on Phoenix's pants as he returned to the bed. The mattress shifted and he soon felt that cool mouth on his neck again. There was no bite, but his lover seemed to be cleaning up after himself a bit. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Here..." There was a brief pause, and then a finger was pressed to Miles' lips. He parted them and took the digit into his mouth, bracing himself for the bitter taste that quickly flooded his tongue. Despite how awful it still was to him, he lightly licked the wound until it closed and Phoenix withdrew his hand.

Miles stayed still for a time as he waited for those few drops of vampire blood to work their *magic*, kept calm and relaxed the entire time by the soothing feeling of Phoenix's fingers carding gently through his assuredly messy hair. The wooziness began to ebb away and he soon felt confident enough to open his eyes, to see his lover once again.

Phoenix was smiling softly at him, looking good as new. His eyes were bright and intense, his flesh unmarred by burns, and his balance and posture perfectly steady. "Hey there," came the gentle greeting. "I, uh... got some blood on your pillow. We'll just flip it over and hope they don't notice." Phoenix leaned down, placing a soft kiss against Miles' lips. "I'm sorry I worried you... I... well... I also thought I would never wake up."

Part of Miles didn't even want to question what seemed like a miracle, but that was simply not his nature. "I... don't understand," he murmured, still feeling somewhat out-of-it. "You were being channeled by Maya, were you not? As I understand it, that can only mean one thing..."

"That's what i thought, too," Phoenix said, leaning back to just sit on the edge of the bed and resume stroking Miles' hair as they spoke. "Yesterday evening, I woke up in my old office, wearing Maya's robe thing... which was about as awkward as you'd think. She'd left me a note saying she just couldn't wait any longer to find out... I was sure then that I'd been killed while resting and hadn't even been aware of it. I... knew you were still trapped, though, and I saw on the news that the police were looking into some... horrible videos that had been released - trying to find their source."

Miles swallowed hard and nodded, knowing exactly to what Phoenix was referring.

"I called Gumshoe and told him I knew where the videos were coming from and where some more captives were being held... including you. I tried to warn him over the phone that he couldn't just go in there like they normally would, but he cut me off... pretty worried about you, I think. So, I had to get down to the police station before he ran off and got himself and/or a bunch of other people killed. When I got there, I found a whole bunch of people in black uniforms with a whole arsenal of weapons each. Apparently, there's a top-secret group within the FBI that knows we exist and knew our kind was involved in those videos. I talked with one of them, told her my situation, and... well... she sort of just believed me..."

Miles raised an eyebrow. "Wait. So... you informed one of these agents that you were a vampire who was now dead and being channeled by a spirit medium... and she just _believed_ you?"

"Yep." Phoenix chuckled to himself. "To be honest, I'm not sure that one is sane... Either way, she said it explained how i knew where everyone was and that they could go in on my word alone. I insisted on going along... I was... so terrified they'd already killed you... It seems we arrived just in time to stop that from happening..."

Miles closed his eyes and nodded, trying not to remember what had transpired that night and what he had almost endured. "You did... Thank you..."

Carefully, Phoenix slid an arm behind his shoulders and pulled him into a somewhat awkward embrace, given their positions. "After they sedated you, that agent came up to me and... said something really strange. She said I was 'in two places at once.' I ran downstairs to where we were all being held captive and - sure enough - there was my body... still in tact. I'd been sure I was nothing but a pile of ashes, but that wasn't the case at all."

Miles opened his eyes to gaze up at his lover from where his head rested on the vampire's shoulder. He was thinking, forcing himself to go back to that terrible place and remember. "Actually, I... Yesterday evening, shortly before sunset, I was trying to wake you. Everything was chaos and we were in the process of trying to fight back, to escape, and I was trying to wake you up, but you wouldn't respond."

Phoenix looked thoughtful. "Yeah, that timing sounds about right. I have no idea how, but... it seems like... Maya channeled me right out of my body."

Miles was incredulous. "Can that happen?"

Phoenix chewed his lip. "I mean... I doubt it could happen to a living person, but maybe it has something to do with our restive state. We're all but dead during the day... Maybe we sort of... partially cross over into that other world where mediums call spirits from, or something... I honestly don't know enough about any of it to say anything for sure..."

Miles brought a hand to his forehead, grunting slightly. "Just thinking about that is giving me a migraine... You're still here... Nothing else really matters right now..."

Phoenix laughed softly and bent his head to kiss Miles lovingly. "Couldn't have said it better myself." With that, their conversation ended, substituted by another kiss, then another, and another. Phoenix's mouth tasted like blood, but Miles couldn't have cared less. He knew that Phoenix would have to leave him come sunrise, but until then, he did not want even an inch to part them.

* * *

><p>Maya woke the following morning shortly after Phoenix departed, and Miles was left with the task of trying to console her. It took quite a bit of time to convince her that Phoenix was, in fact, not dead, and in the end, he had no choice but to reveal the secret he'd been hiding for half a year. The young woman was understandably shocked, confused, a little upset, and in disbelief. Multiple times she questioned whether or not Miles was under the influence of some drugs from the hospital staff, but he managed to convince her that he was perfectly coherent and had been given nothing since the sedative the previous morning.<p>

About halfway through his attempt to explain everything to her, there came a knock on the door and a tall woman in a black uniform stepped inside, fiery red hair tied back with a thick black band and sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She appeared to be loaded down with bags, and it only took a brief moment for Miles to recognize them as his and Phoenix's.

"Morning!" the visitor chimed with a cheery grin as she dumped the bags unceremoniously on the floor. "Brought your crap from the place with the stuff. How's everyone doing today?!"

Miles had to take a moment to process the attitude of the woman who had invited herself into his room, thus it was Maya who ended up speaking first.

"Um... Hi, there," she said uncertainly with a smile to match. "Uh... who are you?"

"Agent Lita Nyxier, FBI Spec. Ops. And you must be the medium lady I saw yesterday." The agent stuck her hands in her pockets, looking as casual and relaxed as you please.

Maya blinked in confusion. "Uhhh... No, I don't think we've ever met before. I'd remember."

"Oh!" Agent Nyxier giggled. "Sorry, my bad. It was only _kinda'_ you, I guess. It was more your friend Spike."

"Spike...?" Maya sat in bewilderment for a moment longer, then realization seemed to strike her. "O-oh, you mean Nick! Umm... Yeah, I was channeling him for a while, but how did you know that?"

The agent grinned. "I know lots of stuff. Most of it's stupid, but some of it's pretty cool and useful, so the Bureau gave me a bunch of guns and sent me off to shoot bad guyus in the face!"

Miles cleared his throat, finally deciding to sit up and interject. "Agent Nyxier, I... thank you for your efficiency in rescuing myself and the others, and for delivering my and Mr. Wright's possessions, but... is there not another reason why you are here? Perhaps it would be pertinent-"

"You think I'm here to get a statement, don't ya?" Her smile changed then to something a little softer. "Well, no worries. That can wait 'til you've gone back home and gotten settled in. Then, we'll have you go down to the local precinct and give your account. I mean, if there's anything _urgent_ I need to know while we're investigating and cleaning up viscera, go right ahead, but otherwise, just chill for now."

Miles curled his fingers into the fabric of his blanket, at which he was now staring. He was relieved, albeit still very perplexed at her behavior. "I... must say I find it peculiar that a federal agent of such caliber would be sent to deliver luggage."

"Oh, no one sent me," she informed him, making him look up at her to see what now looked like a mischievous grin. Despite her cheerful demeanor, this woman was somewhat intimidating, likely due to its contrast to her stature and the array of lethal weapons she carried on her person. He also couldn't figure out why she was wearing sunglasses while inside. "I kinda' just go where I think I should be. Irritates the piss outta' my superiors, but I'm usually right, soooo..."

Miles frowned. "And why is it you *think* you should be here?" He didn't like the sound of that one bit.

Her expression looked thoughtful, but since he could not see her eyes, it was difficult to tell for sure. "Hmm... No idea, but now it's time to go! See you guys later! Nice meeting you! Thanks for killin' all those guys! Bye!" With a chipper little wave, she turned and trotted back out the door before either of them could recover enough to call out to her.

Slowly, Miles turned his head to meet Maya's gaze, and the two of them just looked at each other for a time, silently sharing the same thought.

_What the fuck was that all about?_


	12. Chapter 12

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Twelve**

Miles was discharged from the hospital just before noon. His car had been towed there, and he was grateful for this as it meant he had no need to return to that place of nightmares and death. He dropped Maya off at Phoenix's old office with the promise that she could come by that evening and then went straight home. The very first thing he did was take a long shower. After grooming and getting dressed in what he considered casual clothing, he headed for his basement where he hoped he would find his lover.

Relief washed over him when he saw the shape of the man lying on the old sofa in his single-room sub-level. Careful not to make any excess noise, he walked toward his lover, leaning over him in preparation to lie down.

"Miles?" Phoenix's eyes became slightly focused and moved to him instead of the rafters.

"I'm sorry..." Miles muttered. "I just... wanted to be near you. You can go back to sleep... We... don't have to talk." He crawled atop his lover and settled himself, his head resting on Phoenix's shoulder. He felt a powerful arm encircle his waist and he was glad to know Phoenix had no problem with this arrangement.

"Glad to see you got home safe..." Phoenix muttered. "How is Maya? She looked awful when I saw her last night..."

Miles shut his eyes, just basking in their closeness. "I have managed to tentatively convince her she need not grieve. I... told her she could come by tonight and see for herself that you are not dead. I..." He paused, taking in a deep breath. "...I had to tell her the truth, Phoenix. The only other option was to let her believe you were gone."

"No, it's fine," Phoenix assured him. "There's really no hiding it from her at this point, and... the cat will be out of the bag soon, if it isn't already." He paused, and Miles felt his hold tighten just a little. "And how are you?"

The prosecutor took in a deep, shaky breath. "I am... merely relieved that you returned. Everything else... I am... trying not to dwell on it." In all honesty, he was afraid to go to sleep, terrified of what his sleeping mind would show him. He had not slept since coming out of sedation the previous evening, and he was fighting that exhaustion now.

"Miles, I'm... so sorry I couldn't protect you from that. I... can't believe we both came so close to losing one another, all because I couldn't see the trap for what it was." Miles felt a tremor go through his lover's body, and the emotion in his voice was bringing out his own grief.

"Phoenix, you saved us all in the end..." Miles pointed out, his voice just as quiet as the other man's. "Somehow, you did something that should be impossible and turned around such a hopeless situation... just like you always do. I was the one who was useless... I tried... I truly did, but..."

Miles." He felt Phoenix's free hand come up to caress the side of his face lovingly. "You realize you saved my life twice, don't you?"

Miles bit his lip, saying nothing.

"The night everything went to Hell, you both stopped me from drinking that synthetic blood after it had been contaminated, and you killed the vampire I was fighting with before he could win... which he was about to do. Sure, I guess I still would have been able to bring help, but not only did you and the other captives make it possible for the rescue to go over without any more loss of life, you made sure i could come back to you afterward."

Despite the gravity of all that had happened, Miles felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. "...I did not open myself completely to you just to let you get away that easily, Phoenix Wright..."

The man beneath him shook with a tired but genuine laugh. "Miles, just think about it for a second and you'll realize there's no getting rid of me. I've come back from death twice to chase you down."

"Mm..." Somehow, Miles felt much more relaxed after that brief shift in tone and decided to just stay silent. Phoenix grew quiet as well, and before long, Miles felt himself drifting to sleep. He chose not to fight it, hoping that doing so in this embrace would drive away any nightmares.

* * *

><p>"All right, soda for Maya, apple juice for Pearls, disgusting cheap beer for Larry, and wine with a name i can't pronounce for the fancy prosecutor." Phoenix set the tray down on the coffee table and handed each person their requested beverage.<p>

"Th-thank you, Mr. Nick," Pearl said politely as she took the cup with both hands, still staring at Phoenix in wonderment as she tried to understand what they'd all been told about him. She was sitting on Miles' couch beside her older cousin Maya, and farther down sat Larry. Miles was sitting on the loveseat, a space beside him left for his lover once everyone was served. He wasn't accustomed to having this many people in his home, but he had offered no protest to the idea. Phoenix had not seen these people in so long, and he wasn't going to deny him this chance.

"Yeah, thanks, dude," Larry said as he snatched the beer can and cracked it open. "What, you're not getting anything?"

Phoenix took his place beside Miles and leaned back. "Nope. I can't eat or drink anything normal anymore. Just blood."

Maya was a little green, but she was too curious to let it go. "W-what happens if you, uh... _do_ eat or drink anything else?"

"Projectile vomiting," Phoenix answered bluntly, making Miles choke on the sip of wine he'd just taken. "And if you think regular puke is gross-"

"W-Wright, that is quite enough!" Miles cut him off, his hand over his mouth while he gathered his composure. "I believe they get the point." He heard Phoenix snicker beside him and shot the man a glare before at last lowering his hand, clearing his throat, and straightening himself out. The subject was quickly changed, but he wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable with the new topic either.

"So, Nick," Larry began, looking at the two of them with a little confusion. "You and Edgey? Never saw _that_ coming! I mean, Nick, you even had a girlfriend in college! A cute one, too!"

"W-Wait..." Pearl's eyes widened and she leaned forward a little, staring at the two of them, then looking back at Maya. "B-but I thought that Mystic Maya was Mr. Nick's special someone..."

Maya sighed and reached over to pat her cousin on the back. "No, no, Pearly, that's what I kept trying to tell you. Nick and I are just friends."

Phoenix offered the little girl a kind smile. "That's right, Pearls. Maya is more like my little sister. You're both very important to me, but in a very different way than how Mr. Edgeworth and I feel about each other."

"Oh..." Pearl looked a bit upset for a brief time, but she appeared to be chewing on the idea, testing it out. "W-well... I guess that's okay, too. A-as long as you really love each other, then... then I'm happy you are finally together."

"Thank you," Phoenix said, resting a hand on Miles' thigh, a gesture which the prosecutor had to struggle not to rebuff while others were watching. "We're very happy to have your blessing."

This seemed to cheer the little girl up a bit, knowing her opinion was so highly valued by the grown-ups. Miles was glad that Phoenix was good with children, because he himself had no idea how to handle them. In fact, he had yet to really say much, for while he knew all of these people relatively well, the situation itself was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Of course, he was the only one who felt that way, which he was accustomed to. At least he was near Phoenix, which made any situation just a little bit better.

Larry took a large gulp of his beer, set the can down, and then leaned forward with a grin. "Well, Nick, time to show us the goods. Come on! Let's see 'em!"

Phoenix blinked. "Huh?"

Maya apparently caught the hint and leaned forward as well, grinning a little. "Duh, Nick! Isn't it obvious!? You just got done explaining to us how you're a vampire and you drink people's blood. We wanna' see your new fangs!"

"Yeah, come on, dude! I remember watching you in court; you told us something really weird, so now you gotta' prove it! That's how it works, right?" Larry's grin had broadened, and Miles could sense that he was no longer the only one in discomfort.

"Er..." Phoenix reached up to rub the back of his neck. "Are, uh... you guys sure about that? I mean, I, uh... wouldn't wanna' scare Pearls or anything."

The little girl put on a brave face. "I won't be scared, Mr. Nick, I promise."

"See, she's fine!" Maya insisted, one of the three now staring hard at Phoenix in anticipation. The former attorney forced out a sigh of resignation.

"Alright, fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." With that, Phoenix moved to sit on the edge of the cushion and lean toward them, and Miles heard him give a low growl accompanied by the sound of his fangs extending. He couldn't see them, but he had no need to; he was intimately familiar with them.

"Oh-ho-ho, DUDE!" Larry exclaimed in wide-eyed astonishment. "That is _AWESOME!"_

"Jeez, Nick," Maya added, tilting her head to get a better look. "It's a good thing you can put those away or you'd, like... bite off your own tongue or something!"

Pearl giggled, far from frightened. "Those look kind of like the long teeth that kitty-cats have!" she observed joyfully, making Phoenix laugh. He retracted his fangs and sat back once more.

"Sorry, Pearls, but vampires aren't really as cute as kitty-cats."

Larry was still quite excited over this new development. "What other cool stuff can you do? C'mon, show us!"

Phoenix deliberated for a moment, and then a mischievous smirk curved his lips and he looked over at Miles, who instantly knew what was about to happen. "Wright, no, I- Ah!" Before he could react, Phoenix had easily lifted him up one-armed and put him over his shoulders. Then, they were moving. Dizziness overwhelmed the prosecutor and he had no way of keeping up with the sudden motion, but they were soon back where they'd started.

"For you, my friend," Phoenix said with a gracious little bow as he handed an astounded Larry a second beer.

"Woah...!" Larry said in awe while Maya laughed and Pearl clapped in delight.

"W-Wright, put me down this instant!" Miles sputtered in protest, his face bright red. Phoenix chuckled and carefully lowered him back down to sit on the loveseat, dropping down beside him. Miles immediately turned his face away to hide the blush, but the giggling of the two girls was only making it worse.

Phoenix was still laughing a little as he patted Miles' arm. "Sorry about that. Just having a little fun."

Miles' only response was to growl in irritation, refusing to turn back toward him until the blush - and tiny smile - had faded.

"Poor Mr. Edgeworth," Pearl said, still trying to stifle her own giggles. "He's so bashful!"

The conversation continued with Phoenix having to answer quite a few questions about his new condition and whether or not 'this' was true about vampires or 'that' was true about vampires. Miles thought the man had to have remarkable patience, as he himself would have told them to stop quite a while ago. Phoenix was interrupted in the midst of insisting he could not turn into a bat by the sound of a sharp series of knocks at the front door, and he suddenly became very tense. Miles moved to stand, but Phoenix took a firm hold of his arm to stop him.

"It's all right," Miles assured him, understanding perfectly why his lover was so worried. "I know who it is." Phoenix gave him a dubious look, but reluctantly released his arm and let him go. He heard Maya snicker and Pearl giggle as he left the room; he tried to ignore them.

Miles walked into the foyer and unlatched the bolt in order to open the door. Sure enough, Franziska stood on his doorstep, and she looked more hostile than usual. He opened his mouth to greet her, but he never quite got the chance.

He was honestly impressed with the speed and force of the slap she delivered, causing his head to jerk to the side upon impact. He barely had time to recover his senses before he felt himself drawn back a step, a powerful arm around his waist and low growl near his ear. He saw the startled look on Franziska's face, and his heart began to race as he realized just how close the situation was to getting out of hand.

"Phoenix, don't!" he hissed, nudging his lover slightly with his elbow to try and get his attention. "I'm fine. Calm down." When he glanced over at the man holding him protectively, he was alarmed to realize Phoenix had his fangs out, a clear threat to anyone who dared harm his human.

Franziska didn't move, and despite her obvious fear, she managed to work her expression into a challenging glare. Apparently, she didn't trust herself to speak, though.

Miles took in a deep breath. "Phoenix, please... go back to our guests. I am capable of handling this."

It took a few tense moments, but Phoenix slowly released him and drew back. He retracted his fangs, but gave Franziska a lingering glare of warning before he walked away. Miles watched him go and then turned back to look at his sister, his hand resting on the doorknob.

"So it really is true," Franziska said in a low tone, her stare icy. "Phoenix Wright has become one of those fanged, walking corpses, and you have let it into your home _and_ your bed." She pointed a gloved finger at him. "Disgusting and shameful, Miles Edgeworth!"

Miles did his best to remain calm, but someone insulting Phoenix in such a way was suddenly a lot more upsetting than it had once been. He met her glare with one of his own. "He is still the same man he once was, only with a few minor alterations. As for the status of our relationship, that is none of your concern."

"What _is_ my concern is that you have been harboring such dangerous knowledge for at least half a year, not only from me, but from all of law enforcement! I _knew_ I should have forced you to tell me what happened to you when you vanished for two weeks and then showed up in _my_ house unannounced and covered in blood! I was a _fool_ to let you talk your way out of it!"

"Franziska, revealing that secret would have cost me my life, as well as the lives of anyone I had told," he stated. He was making no move to invite her in, as her obvious anger would most definitely ruin the night, and he wasn't going to do that to Phoenix and their friends. "I had no choice but to keep their existence and Wright's presence to myself."

Franziska gritted her teeth, and her fingers closed around the coiled leather at her hip. "And was this by _his_ order, Bruderlein? Have you allowed yourself to be taken prisoner in your own home because you are too _pitiful_ and _weak_ to stand up to your _friend?"_ He noted how she said the word 'friend' with as much disdain as 'pitiful' and 'weak', but it came as no surprise to him.

Just hearing the word 'imprisoned' made him queasy, but he forced it down and maintained his outward calm. "No, Franziska. This arrangement was by my invitation, and our partnership as much of interest to me as it is to him. Think me weak for possessing human emotion if you must; I care not either way."

Franziska only sneered at him, and her voice dripped with more venom than he had heard from her in quite a long time. "You are more _pathetic_ than I could have possibly imagined, Miles Edgeworth. The sight of you _disgusts_ me, and if your _Master EVER_ threatens me again, I will have him fried in the morning sun!" With those bitter words, the German woman turned on her heel and marched away, head held high and not a single backward glance.

Miles only watched her go for a few seconds, then closed the door on the warm summer night, resisting the urge to slam it. He sighed, shaking his head in exasperation, wondering how long it would take _this time_ for her anger to subside. He lightly rubbed his bruised cheek then turned to head back toward the living room where the others were idly chatting.

"Larry! Feet _OFF_ the coffee table!"

* * *

><p>"Hey, Nick...?"<p>

Phoenix stopped at the foot fo the stairs and turned back to see that Maya was sitting up. The two girls were staying the night - Maya on the couch and Pearls on the loveseat - and while he'd known his former assistant hadn't been sleeping, he'd not expected her to notice him or speak. He'd simply come downstairs to check on them after Miles had drifted off. "Hm?" He could see her clearly in the dark living room, but she was only looking in his general direction as she spoke softly.

"Can we, umm... talk for a minute?" Her last few words were muddied slightly by a yawn. She was clearly exhausted, and the more protective part of him wanted to tell her to just go to sleep - that they'd talk some other time. However, he could only assume that whatever was on her mind was preventing her from sleeping.

"Sure. Come out into the kitchen so we don't wake Pearls." He stepped away from the staircase and into the kitchen, flicking on the light. Soon, Maya padded in after him, barefoot and with her hair down; the effect made her look younger. He motioned her toward the dining table and she took the invitation, sitting down while he leaned against the counter and folded his arms. "What's on your mind?"

"A lot of stuff, actually," Maya replied, twirling a piece of her hair around a finger; she was looking somewhere else entirely while she spoke to him. "I know Larry and I asked a lot of questions tonight, but... there's still some stuff I really don't understand. Like... why didn't you ever tell anyone what happened? You just... disappeared one day, and none of us knew what happened to you."

"I'm sorry, Maya, but I had to go into hiding," he told her, shaking his head slowly. "Vampires have always had to keep themselves a secret. Believe me, it was... painful... to have to leave you all behind like that. I could hardly stand it, and that's how Edgeworth ended up finding out about me." Every time he thought about it, he felt a pang in his chest. Miles may have somehow found it within himself to forgive him, but Phoenix had not.

"What do you mean?" Maya pressed, as he'd expected she would. "How did Mr. Edgeworth find out but not me?" He detected a little hurt in her voice, even though she was trying to hide it. He understood what she must be thinking.

"Maya, trust me, you wouldn't have wanted to be the one I stalked that night..." He tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "I made a stupid mistake. The one who turned me - my Maker - told me it was a stupid mistake, that there was no way I could hide what I was from anyone just yet, and that they would ask questions. I just... didn't listen. I knew Edgeworth was probably using police resources to try and find me, so I thought that if I just... showed him I was still around, he'd drop the search and tell you guys I wasn't dead. I wasn't thinking clearly at all, and there were... other reasons why I went after him, reasons I didn't want to admit to myself. My plan backfired horribly... Maya, I nearly killed him that night."

Maya gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth in shock. "W-what?! N-no way, Nick!"

He tilted his chin back down and fixed her with an intense look. "I wouldn't lie about something like that. I'm a predator now, and I have instincts... all so much stronger than those of humans. Only recently have I really started to get a handle on them, and that night... I lost control. Had I not found some clarity when I did... they would've found his body instead of just his car." He paused, then turned his face away. "Well, actually, they probably wouldn't have found his body... Ever. I would have had to dispose of it to hide what had happened."

By this point, Maya looked queasy. "Nick, you... I can't believe what i'm hearing... That's not like you at all!"

Phoenix unfolded his arms to shove his hands in his pockets, not quite looking at her while he spoke. "No, it isn't. That's what's been so hard about this. I'm still me, but... in some ways... I'm not, and I'm completely aware of it. It's like a sickness, as if I have some mental disorder that makes me constantly at odds with myself. It's... gotten better recently, thanks in no small part to Edgeworth. Still, I was told it won't ever completely go away; controlling it will just feel more natural to the point where it would actually take some kind of extreme to set me off."

Maya was chewing on the nail of her index finger. "Umm... S-so... i-is it safe for Pearly and I to-"

"You're safe," he said quickly, finally looking directly at her. "If I'm not especially hungry, just being around humans doesn't bother me. Besides, I've got Miles here. As long as he's around, well... I'm not really tempted to go after anyone else." His mouth twitched up into a slight smirk, and he could see that Maya was now blushing a little.

"O-oh, I-I get it," she said with a nervous giggle. "So... you weren't really _supposed_ to show yourself to Mr. Edgeworth, but after you did, you had to make him keep you a secret, too?"

Phoenix forced out a sigh, lowering his head. "Yeah... Once he really understood the situation, I didn't exactly have to _force_ him, though. I felt guilty the whole time, regardless of that, because I could see how difficult it was for him to lie to everyone, and also because you and the others were still so worried about me. What happened at that compound the past few days was horrible, but at least it means I could come out of hiding. I've missed you all a lot."

The young medium sat up a little straighter against the back of the chair. "That's actually another thing I wanted to talk to you about. The night before last, I... I channeled you, didn't I?" She looked incredibly confused, and he had been wondering when this topic would come up.

"Yeah, you did," he answered. "I woke up in my office and saw your note. Believe me, I am just as confused about that as you are. At the time, I... was sure I'd really died while I was resting that day."

"But you're immortal now, right?" Maya asked, placing her hand against the side of her head as she looked off in thought. "That means you can't die, doesn't it?"

"Uh..." Phoenix shifted a little. "See, we say 'immortal,' but that's... strictly speaking, not true. We don't age, so we'll never die a natural death, but we can be killed. We'll live forever otherwise, but with the situation I was in at the time, it was pretty safe to assume I'd been killed. I was pretty sure I was nothing but a pile of ashes, so... it was alarming to see that I wasn't."

Maya looked back at him, clearly still trying to work things out. "I just don't get it. When I channel someone, I call their spirit from another world, but yours is still in your body. That just... doesn't make any sense!"

Phoenix chuckled and shook his head. "You're asking the wrong guy, Maya. If you're clueless about it, there's no way I'm going to have much insight. The only hint I can possibly offer is that, when we rest during the day, we're basically dead. There's this... subconscious awareness that will alert us if anything happens nearby so that we're not super vulnerable, but other than that, we don't have any sense of time or anything. It's like I just lie down at sunrise, and if nothing wakes me up during the day, it's just suddenly sunset and I'm awake."

She appeared to be in deep thought again, and Phoenix opted to stay silent and watch the wheels turn. Finally, she huffed a sigh. "It's no use. I'm totally clueless. Maybe when I get back to the village, I'll look through some of the old books and records and see if there's anything about you guys in there. I mean, if spirit mediums can channel vampires right out of their bodies without killing them, we _can't_ be the first ones to figure that out, can we? My family is way old. _Someone_ has to have discovered it before now!"

Phoenix nodded. "That does seem likely, though I don't know if the records would still be around. I guess it's possible that the Feys kept that secret pretty well, but I feel like if vampires had found out, they would have made sure the records were destroyed."

Maya suddenly smirked. "I dunno', Nick. That actually sounds like a really awesome trick to know. If you have a medium friend, you can basically teleport from one place to the other, or just be somewhere during the day without catching on fire!" Her smirk had turned to a mischievous grin, and he could tell she was thinking of ways to use this trick to either help him out... or mess with him.

"Ah, we should probably be careful," he cautioned. "I don't know how safe it is to do that over and over again. For all we know, we might be playing Russian Roulette. I don't think Edgeworth would be too happy with you if one day you channeled me and I just disintegrated."

A look of shock came over Maya briefly, and then she slumped into a pout. "Oh... Yeah, I guess you're probably right... I could have really ended up killing you the other night, couldn't I?"

"Maya."

"Huh?" She raised her head to look at him, her lower lip quivering. Phoenix held her gaze while he spoke, his expression earnest.

"You saved us the other night. You know that, don't you?" She blinked a few times, looking confused, so he elaborated. "I was chained up, being held prisoner and there was no way I could fight or escape. If you hadn't channeled me when you did, not only would I have eventually been killed, but so would a lot of other people, including Miles. Maya, they were going to torture him to death and film it! When I got there yesterday morning with the police and FBI, they had already started to. They had the camera on and they were- N-no, that's not important..." He trailed off a moment to gather his thoughts and make his point. "If you hadn't channeled me, there would have been no way I could get help. Everyone in that place would've been killed except for a bunch of very evil vampires who only want to hurt people."

Her look of bewilderment had slowly morphed into astonishment while he spoke. "Y-you mean, I..."

"You saved possibly hundreds of lives, Maya." He did not allow his expression to waver, as he wanted her to know just how serious he was about this. He wasn't just trying to make her feel better about what could have been a terrible mistake; Maya was a hero, and he needed her to know that.

The young woman opened and closed her mouth several times, at a loss for what to say. About the fifth time, she finally managed to stammer out a reply. "B-but... but it wasn't like... I-I really knew what I was doing. I just... I-I just wanted to know if you were..."

"It doesn't matter if it was an accident or not." At last, he allowed a grin to come to his lips. "You're a hero, Maya. You used your special power to save the lives of hundreds of innocent people from a gang of super-villains."

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment longer, and then her face lit up. She beamed. clearly thrilled and proud of herself for her unwitting accomplishment. "Wow! I can't believe it! I really did all that? Wow..." She stared off into her fantasies for a few seconds, then hopped up from the chair, not looking quite so tired anymore. "Say, Nick, since you have all those new powers and can't be a lawyer anymore, you should _totally_ become a superhero! I could be your side-kick: Spirit Girl! We've gotta' come up with a cool name for you, though. How 'bout-"

"Ah, that... won't be necessary," he said, holding up a hand to stay her. "Let's not get carried away here. As far as vampires go, I'm still just a baby, you know. Besides, I, uh... don't think Miles would be too happy if I started going out at night when it's the only time we actually get to spend together."

"Oh..." Maya wilted briefly, then straightened up, her smile returning in a more modest manner. "Eh, oh well. It was a fun thought, anyhow."

He chuckled, stepping forward to pat her on the shoulder. "In any case, I owe you a huge 'thank you,' and a lot more. If you or Pearls ever need anything, I'm back and I won't be going anywhere for the foreseeable future. I'm sure Edgeworth would be more than happy to help, too; he owes you as much as I do."

"Hmmm..." Maya peered off in thought for a brief time with a little smirk. "You guys owe me, huh? So, how many burgers do you think your lives are worth?"

Phoenix flinched, and he was sure the look on his face was priceless. Her giggling fit confirmed this.


	13. Chapter 13

(**A/N:** And here we are at the end of Part 2. Thank you all for coming along for the ride! Hope you had as much fun as I did!

I know there are still more issues to address, so making it a trilogy is not out of the question, but I'm not going to do so until I have a solid plot idea. So, until then...!)

**Into the Dawn - Chapter Thirteen**

Miles sighed in exasperation as his phone began to ring from the center consul, though the corners of his mouth tugged in the beginnings of a smile. He briefly moved his right hand from the stick shift to tap the screen in order to answer the call, leaving the phone where it lay as he spoke. "Yes, dear?" he greeted the man on the other end, pouring as much irritation and sarcasm as he could into those two words.

_"Well, jeez, sorry to __**bother**__ you, Mr. Grumpy!"_ Phoenix's voice was coming through the speakers of the car, this particular mode allowing Miles to both speak and listen without taking his attention off the road or wearing one of those irritating earpieces.

"I am on my way home, Phoenix, you needn't worry," Miles assured him. He always got this call when he did not return home from work before nightfall. Part of him was annoyed at Phoenix for being so overprotective, but that part was silenced by Miles' knowledge that there were true dangers lurking out here, especially now. "And I am also armed, as usual." In a subconscious gesture, his right hand went briefly to his left shoulder where he could feel the hard shape of the long knife beneath the fabric of his jacket.

_"Okay..."_ Phoenix sounded a bit distressed, and his next words made it clear why. _"I know I probably worry about you too much, but... there was another attack up in Anaheim just a few minute ago, and I just..."_

Miles let out a slow breath, trying to keep his nerves calm. "No, I understand. I am lucky to have someone who cares enough to be so unbearably watchful." He paused, and a tense silence lingered until he spoke again. "...How many this time?"

_"Only three, but... one of them was a kid. It looks like the ones that did it all got taken out pretty quickly, though... so we can at least be grateful for that."_

Miles reached up to course his fingers through his hair, tugging slightly in frustration. It was terrifying, really, but the attacks hadn't been frequent or large enough to cause the country to descend into chaos... Yet. The same couldn't be said for some other places in the world, but those hadn't been stable to begin with. The revelation had not gone over as smoothly as optimists might have hoped, but it had not gone as badly as pessimists might have expected.

_"Okay, I see your car. Meet you out front."_ With that, there was a tiny click and the call ended, allowing the soft classical music he'd been listening to fade back in. Miles was at least four hundred feet down the road leading to his house and it was dark, but he had long since stopped questioning Phoenix's extraordinary sensory ability.

As he pulled into his driveway, his headlights swept over the form of his lover, who was always careful not to sneak up on him while outside of the house; he was very grateful for that. Miles shifted into park and shut off the engine, picking up his phone from the consul and his briefcase from the passenger's seat before stepping out of the car. He walked toward Phoenix, and when the two met, they shared a kiss in greeting. "You see? I am quite all right," Miles said, taking a hold of Phoenix's hand to walk with him inside the house.

"I know, I know," Phoenix said with an unnatural sigh. "You really can't blame me for worrying, though. Your job was already dangerous _before_ the shit hit the fan."

Miles hung his keys on a peg near the door, toed off his shoes to place in the coat closet, and then took his briefcase into his study to set near his desk, speaking as he did this. "No, I cannot blame you, but I hope you understand that - as it gets later in the year - it will be more and more difficult for me to return home before dark. With what has been happening the past few months, those in legal professions will be needed more than ever. Ergo, I cannot allow myself to abandon my work out of fear." When he straightened up after setting the briefcase down, Phoenix's arms encircled his waist from behind and pulled him into a close embrace.

"Yeah, I know. I don't like it, but I understand." He placed a kiss just below Miles' ear, a spot that always made him shiver. "I think that until everything starts calming down, I should start coming to the prosecutor's office after sundown."

Under normal circumstances, this would have been too much. Miles would have normally been fed up with someone who _refused_ to let him out of their sight, no matter how much he cared for them. However, the past three and a half months had been anything but 'normal circumstances,' and the idea of having Phoenix nearby after dark actually sounded like a relief. Maybe then he wouldn't be so anxious all the time.

"So long as you don't interfere with my work or distract me, I have no objections," Miles agreed, trying to sound serious even as Phoenix started placing more kisses on the most sensitive parts of his neck, drawing out a voiceless moan from him and causing him to put more of his weight against his lover. He started to let his eyelids flutter closed, but a rumbling and slight ache in his stomach brought them open again.

"Oh, right," Phoenix said with a laugh. "It's eight o'clock; you're probably starving!"

Miles steadied himself and was then released, the two of them leaving the study to head into the kitchen. Miles began gathering together ingredients to make himself a salad with baked chicken, but once Phoenix saw what he intended, his lover bade him go sit down and relax in the living room while he cooked. Miles only put up the minimal amount of resistance for the sake of protocol, and then went off to collapse on the couch, taking off his jacket, cravat, and the knife he kept fastened to his left arm. With the loss of the spear Phoenix had given him, the silver knife that had been passed to him by that dying woman - whose name he'd never learned - was his new method of self-defense against any vampire attacker. He'd had no occasion to use it as of yet, but he'd done some practice draws with it while by himself, wanting to know he _could_ use it if he needed to.

Miles clasped the ornate hilt of the knife and slowly drew it from its leather sheath. The silver blade glinted in the lamplight, having been long-since cleaned and polished. It was a beautiful weapon, but he simply could not look at it without going back. He not only saw the face of the dead woman - eyes blank and lifeless, blood streaming from her mouth to pool before her - but the faces of so many other dead. He saw the woman whose throat had been ripped out, the man whose tongue and arms had been torn from his body, the vampire who had started retching up blood while he fried from the inside out. However, the blood and gore that was strewn across his memory wasn't the most vivid aspect - not anymore.

Their screams still haunted his sleep, causing him to wake in a nearly inconsolable fit, to shake and weep in his lover's arms. He clearly remembered each of their faces, though he had only known one of their names. How cruel it was that those who had fought the hardest to survive had been the ones who'd died. The owner of this knife had passed quickly by comparison, but that did not make her death any more fair. He had also not directly known about Lt. Jones' fate, but when he'd gone to give his statement to the police and FBI, he had inquired and been told she had been killed. The other four... The two gunners, Christina, and that young man who had discovered a way to break the electronic locks... He was sure he would never forget the sounds of their deaths for the rest of his life.

Every time he remembered, the same thought always wormed its way to the forefront of his mind: what right did he have to be alive when those who had fought the hardest had all died in agony? Sure, he had organized them and given orders, but Miles knew it was the soldiers that won battles, not the high-ranking officers behind their desks. Leaders were necessary, of course, but the outcome had made him feel ultimately like he'd just used those people as meat shields to save himself. That had not been his intention! He had never been the most selfless person, but he truly had hoped everyone there would get a chance to see the sun again - figuratively speaking for some.

He knew the name for what he was feeling: survivor's guilt. He knew it was just another part of his growing list of mental and emotional issues. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was something he had lived with since the age of nine, though he had never been formally diagnosed. Manfred von Karma would _never_ have considered putting him in counseling for it, as he would have viewed seeking such help as a weakness - a mindset many people shared. This included Miles himself, though he was aware that such was probably not a healthy view to hold. Especially after what he had suffered last winter and then the incident at the compound, Phoenix had urged him several times to seek professional help, now that the existence of vampires was no longer a secret.

He had thus far refused every time, and a few times, he had regrettably lashed out at his lover, who he knew was just looking out for his well-being. With a sick feeling, he recalled once when he had retorted with, _"Well, why don't __**you**__ seek help for your tendency to nearly __**kill**__ me if I look at you wrong!?"_ Though he had apologized profusely for that blow - as it had been cruel and untrue - and Phoenix had forgiven him, he still felt awful about having said it. He wouldn't even allow himself to use his mind's state of turmoil as an excuse, though his lover seemed convinced it was responsible and refused to blame him for his outbursts. Miles knew it was really just foolish pride, and he wouldn't make excuses for that.

"Miles?"

The sound of his lover's voice heavy with concern drew Miles out of his reverie, and he found himself staring at his own face reflected - albeit distorted - on the surface of the blade in his hand. He swallowed and let out a shaky breath, sliding the weapon back into its sheath and setting it on the end table. He felt the displacement of air beside him before the cushion shifted and he was gently pulled into an embrace. He dropped his head against Phoenix's chest, and his lover was mercifully silent, just allowing him to relax and gather his composure.

After a while, Miles lifted his head and noticed the teapot plus a cup and saucer sitting on the coffee table. He managed a weak smile and slowly leaned forward to pour himself a cup. "...Thank you," he muttered as he brought the steaming liquid to his lips to sip it, staying hunched forward while he did so.

"Chicken's in the oven," Phoenix informed him, slowly running a hand up and down his back. "Just thought a little tea would hold you over."

Miles set the cup down and leaned back against the cushions, finally turning to look at the other man with the beginnings of a playful smirk. "Really? I merely thought you wished to show off now that you have finally learned how to properly brew tea."

Phoenix laughed, his hand now sliding down to rest on Miles' thigh. "Yeah, now that I can't drink it."

"Hmm..." Miles leaned forward again to retrieve his cup, taking a longer sip. He then set it back down and turned to Phoenix, placing a hand on the side of his face in order to turn it so their lips met. Miles parted his in invitation, and Phoenix did not hesitate to accept. Miles allowed the other man's tongue to roam around in his mouth for several long seconds, then slowly drew back.

"Mm, not bad," Phoenix remarked with a little grin of his own. "I can't wait to try the salad!"

A low laugh sounded in Miles' throat as he shifted back to a normal sitting position, laying his head against the back cushion. "By the way, I received a letter from the Bar Association today. They have granted me a hearing on November Third."

"Really?" He could see the look of mild surprise on Phoenix's face in his peripheral. "Miles, are you sure this is even worth it? It's not like I could ever stand in court again, unless they start holding trials at night."

Miles tilted his chin back down and peered over at the former attorney. "As I've said before, this is about your reputation, not just your badge. You still wish to act as a representative for your kind; thus, people must know they can trust you. As it stands, the last anyone heard of you was that you had forged evidence and then dropped off the face of the Earth."

Phoenix looked away, staring off at some point above the entertainment center across the room. "Yeah, I guess that's true... I mean... I did present forged evidence. There's no denying that. I was... pretty careless, but the situation was desperate... not that it's a good excuse." He paused, then looked back over at Miles. "So, you really think Kristoph did it, huh?"

Miles nodded with resolution; he had no doubts. "It could only have been Mr. Gavin, and I have been gathering evidence to support that truth. I am very close to tracking down his source as well; I intend to have a confession from that source by the time I stand before the Bar Association."

He saw a light flash in Phoenix's eyes, and then with a smile, the other man leaned in to kiss his neck, placing a hand over his heart. "...You're perfect. You know that?"

Miles tilted his head back and closed his eyes, lips slightly parted to release a soft sigh. He felt no need to say anything, so he remained silent and just enjoyed the affection. Phoenix was never short of such praise and sentiment, and Miles wondered how he had gone his whole life without such things: he was spoiled now and he knew it.

They sat in silence for a while until a series of beeps from the kitchen signaled Phoenix to return to his task. Miles was left to relax for a little while longer with his tea, then was presented with dinner. He offered no protests as Phoenix popped in one of his "Steel Samurai" DVDs, having become much more secure with the idea of his lover knowing about and catering to that particular guilty pleasure. After taking care of himself from a very young age, Miles wasn't used to being pampered, but he was starting to learn how to just relax and let good things happen without suspecting some ulterior motive.

After eating and watching a few episodes, Miles caught himself nodding off on Phoenix's shoulder. With a grunt, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "I believe... it is time for me to head upstairs..."

Phoenix chuckled and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Go on. I'll clean up and then join you."

Miles nodded and got slowly to his feet, covering a yawn as he made the trek up to the master bedroom. He changed out of his suit, washed his face, brushed his teeth, combed out his hair, took his iron supplement, and then crawled into bed: his nightly routine that made it just a little easier to settle in. Shortly after, Phoenix appeared and lay down behind him, pulling him into a close embrace. "Comfy?" his lover asked next to his ear after lightly kissing it.

"Mm," was Miles' only response. He was quite tired after another long day, but he could not yet bring himself to go to sleep. Something had been on his mind for months now, and he had decided earlier that day to bring it up tonight. He had no expectations for how this conversation would end, which made him anxious. "Phoenix, there is... something I wish to discuss with you... something rather serious..."

"Okay." Phoenix rested his chin on Miles' shoulder. "What's on your mind?"

Miles took in a deep, shaky breath to brace himself. "Back in that compound, while we were being held prisoner-"

"Miles-"

"Let me finish." He had to pause, to take another breath to calm down before plunging ahead. "There was a woman I spoke with while there... Her name was Christina, and she was bonded to the Chief Councilor. She... did not make it out, but before we were all taken upstairs, she told me more about... the bond..."

He fell silent for a time, just waiting to see if Phoenix would say anything, and he didn't have to look back to know his lover was tense. When no interjection came, Miles continued, feeling as though he was walking out onto paper-thin ice. "She told me what that joining involves, along with the benefits and consequences for both sides..."

"There are no consequences for the vampire involved," Phoenix corrected him in a stiff tone.

Miles swallowed. "Y-yes, well, i-in any case, I... have been unable to stop thinking about what she told me, and... the future we face... otherwise." He cursed his nerves for making his voice tremble, knowing Phoenix would not miss it. Of course, his lover probably would have sensed his unease even had he remained steady. "I have come to truly trust you, Phoenix, and while I am... dubious about the idea, growing old without you just... Well, it... I hate the very thought of that..."

Slowly, Phoenix began to shift their position. He removed himself from around Miles and gently rolled the prosecutor onto his back so that he was looking up into intense blue eyes. "Miles, the very fact that you are - as you put it - *dubious* about the idea of the bond means it won't work right now. And, even if you weren't... I would tell you that it's probably way too early in our relationship for something like that."

Miles drew in his lower lip and averted his gaze. "Y-yes, perhaps, but..."

"Despite the fact that we've both been basically in love with each other for years, we've only been this close for about four months." Phoenix leaned down to kiss his brow. "I know you're worried about what's going to happen as time passes, but just think about it for a second. What do you think of couples who get married after only going out for a few months?"

Miles considered for a moment and frowned.

"Exactly," Phoenix stated. "You think they're freakin' idiots! Now, if this woman really told you all about the bond, you know that it's _much_ more binding than a paper contract and some spoken vows. It is _literally_ 'until death do us part.' Don't get me wrong: the idea of spending eternity with you is... Well, it sounds like a dream come true for me, but we have to give this some time before I can accept you making a decision like that. The last thing I want to do is take advantage of you, Miles, and I'd feel like you'd be _asking_ me to if you offered to bond."

Miles exhaled and closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. "...Y-you're right, I just... If we wait too long to make that decision... I might be condemned to live as a forty or fifty-year-old man for the rest of eternity."

Phoenix chuckled, and though Miles had been completely serious, he felt it took some of the tension out of the situation. "Well, maybe we don't have to wait _that_ long. I'm sure four or five years should be enough to see if you can put up with me. I don't see you getting old in the next five years as long as you let me take care of you a little, to help with the stress."

Miles let out another long breath, but this time he actually felt himself relax, Phoenix's words lifting some of the weight from the massive load constantly on his mind. "That sounds reasonable," he muttered, opening his eyes to meet his lover's once more. "However, I will hold you to the task of keeping me young. Do not fail me, Phoenix Wright." The corners of his mouth twitched up into something of a playful smirk, which Phoenix quickly covered with a kiss after laughing.

"Will do, but you have to agree to listen to me when I tell you to stop working so damn hard and chill out for a while, okay?"

Miles gave a melodramatic sigh of exasperation. "Fine, fine, if you insist."

Phoenix lavished him with a few more kisses while combing his bangs out of his face, then tucked the blanket in tighter around him. "Now, get some sleep. I'll be right here with you all night. I love you, Miles."

"...I love you, too," the prosecutor murmured, laying his head to the side so that he was facing his lover, so that Phoenix would be the last thing he saw before falling asleep.

It was a great relief to no longer have the burden of secrets on his shoulders, secrets of nocturnal predators and Phoenix's whereabouts and fate. He had, however, traded that burden for others; thus sleep did not come much easier. On many nights, Miles truly believed that Phoenix was his only solace, that the cost of vampires stepping out of the shadows and into the dawn, so to speak, had been so high it had left him unable to stand on his own. Maybe that wasn't true. Maybe he wasn't giving himself enough credit. However, he had no desire to find out. To survive in the days to come was going to take strength and resolve, and for that he would look to his partnership with the man who now held him. To stand alone in this world now surely meant death, and if nothing else, Miles owed it to all those who had already been sacrificed to live on and fight with whatever means he possessed.


End file.
